Arguably Dublin’s bleakest pub in terms of its shady history of violence and death by shooting. However, we didn’t feel we were risking our lives as we tentatively entered for a pair of pints. In so going, look up to find a great big steel sign the whole length of the pub which reads: ‘The Great Southern and Western Railway House.’ Inside we found a dark old dive with neon lights and dated dance music drowning everything out. Gulped one down. Got the hell out. Can’t say the chest was any hairier or the balls any bigger after the fact.

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