Ned and Tom (two buckos from Tip), better known as Doheny and Nesbitt forever put their names to this ancient establishment. A genuine Victorian pub with its three snugs and lots of nooks to hide in. High ceilings at certain sections. Stuffed animals peering down. Tourists discuss ‘the Irish’ with the other tourists. Live music. Televised rugby. Dozens of fireplaces, mostly unlit. Reputedly a favourite hideaway for politicians and literary figures once upon a time. Since done up with an emphasis on the gourmet and culinary side of things; popular with the suited class and the more affluent of retirees.

We were once served an exquisite plate of mussels coated in a rich cream and onion sauce, along with bread for to dunk. While it’s a very fine Victorian house longstanding, they’re not shy in shouting out about themselves. In point of fact, they make the following nauseating claim:

Jesus wept! Would someone open a sick bag.

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