Situated opposite the majestic John’s Lane Church [1] and neighbouring the Vicar Street venue is this slight, but fine Tom Kennedy’s pub. Let the bells ring out for Beamish! One can sample the superior stout here (NOTANYMORE. SEE UPDATE BELOW). There’s a stage area at the back of the pub for live music which doubles as a darts area. It’s a popular spot for students owing to its proximity to the National College of Art and Design. Behind the bar is a large clock and a curious wooden Guinness calendar reminding regulars to have a Guinness a day. A small smoking area is home to amusing signage such as ‘Beer, helping people have sex since 1862!’ We enjoyed several libations here sitting up at the counter, and would happily return for more of the same. And while it is heartening that they serve a Beamish, past samples of it have alas proven on the cloudy side, and certainly inferior to its near neighbours The Clock and Baker's. Indeed, one is tempted to suspect that what they call a 'Beamish' may in fact be simply a substandard Guinness served in a Beamish glass. An external sign is inscribed on the pub’s wall which states the following: ‘Thomas Ellis. A tape weaver, lived here at 65 Thomas St. when he was arrested by Crown forces for his part in the United Irishmen Rebellion. Nothing is known of him after being taken to Dublin Castle in June of 1798.’ 

Sorrowful Update as of Jan 2022: Shame on Tom Kennedy’s! The barman admitted to doing away with Beamish and installing the new stout made by Heineken called Island’s Edge which is aimed at replacing Beamish stout completely. Beamish is now a precious liquid - it’s Ireland’s original stout and it’s almost completely unavailable anywhere in the Liberties. One hopes it doesn’t disappear completely. If you’re after a Beamo go around to The Lord Edward (who stuck to their guns and never installed Island’s Edge or further up the road to Guinans (see: J.K. Stoutman’s).

FOOTNOTE

[1] The Church of St. Augustine and St. John (known as John’s Lane Church). Worthy of a visit, even if drunk, in fact more so. John Ruskin has called this church ‘a poem in stone.’ Its façade is in the style of French Gothic and consists of striking red sandstone, limestone and granite which all culminate in the tallest steeple in Dublin city. Already built on a hill - the steeple stands at over 200 feet tall. The bells in its tower first rang out in 1873. More joy awaits inside: a kaleidoscope of stained-glass windows and exquisite mosaics illuminated by candle light. O John’s Lane – on the inside one thinks of a petal of paradise, outside: of Gotham City, home of the very brave Batman. Within one may also bear witness to the haunting monologue of a skeletal bearded man who would appear to either be one of God's chosen vessels, or a tragic madman, the interior of whose skull betokens a landscape of broken disassociation and desolation. Seated hourly in the same pew, leaving only when the temple shuts and he gets consigned to the cardboard bed outside, day by day in the church he may be found a-mumbling hour upon hour, desperately communing with his deity as though muttering down a faulty and flickering phone line, rocking back and forth on his bench as his fists squeeze and clench, seizing upon a random word and hopping on from random subject to rambling subject, his voice rising in sonority and power till it echoes to the rafters and chills the blood of all who hear it, his two most common and plaintive refrains being 'What do you want from me, Lord?' and 'I'm tired, Lord'... As the fellow (Thomas Snasz) said: 'When you talk to God, you are praying. When God talks to you, you have schizophrenia.'

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