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Time? Time has no meaning here in the seventh circle of hell, where even despair dies…

Why do I despise Flannery’s on Camden Street? A full and candid response to that question would run to fill a 12-page pull-out supplement. Suffice to say: Drunk off-duty Gardai. Drunk off-duty nurses. Drunk off-duty Gardai copulating with drunk off-duty nurses. Fake tan. Peroxide. Rugby shirts. DJs with stupid mid-Atlantic accents who say things like “It’s Saturday night in Flannery’s and the paaarty is just getting staarted…” Read the rest of this article here.