Once a popular joint for Irish Times journalists and other gentlemen of the press with a literary bent. An attractive back room has a high ceiling and many portraits of dead writers on the walls, supposed onetime regulars. The staff have also preserved a cheque once written by Paddy Kavanagh at the end of an evening's heavy drinking, amounting to the princely sum of one pound and ten shillings. In fact, one will find nods to Irish writers throughout the entire house. Currently draped in flowers, established in 1823, this is a Victorian pub equipped with an authentic snug and a wonderful skylight in the back room with generous stained-glass. There’s a particular fondness for sportswriter Con Houlihan. His heavy bust sits behind the bar under a sign that reads: ‘A bird is known by its song. A man by his conversation.’ 

The former upstairs lounge has been converted to the popular ‘Whiskey Palace,’ a haven for lovers of the hard stuff. Up here one can hear live traditional music and can be sufficiently startled by a haunting, looming mural of that man again, big Con. Back down in the bar, you’ll be relieved to know that they’re licensed to sell stamps. The front window is almost entirely dedicated to Flann O’Brien’s At Swim Two Birds with a quotation from the illustrious ‘A pint of plain is your only man’ – (since updated, and in constant flux it seems, but what’s definitely permanent is the sign on its upper window which states: ‘Internationally famous for our intellectual refreshments’). Nowadays seats are at a premium and prices are climbing to ever higher rates.  

Unique to this pub is the street lamppost directly outside which dons the pub’s crest and name. Surrounding the lamppost are four plaques set into the footpath each having a portrait and a quote from four of its previous imbibers: Brendan Behan, Patrick Kavanagh, Flann O’Brien and you’ve guessed it, Con Houlihan! The quote from the later could smelt metal: ‘Whenever my county are in the All-Ireland final, my head says Kerry and my heart says the Kingdom.’ Queue violins, tears and the sniffling of snot.

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