Come Here To Me!

Dance around the fountain with your Spanish friends.

We’re in Pygmalion, and the drinks are cheap. Half price, everything. The whole lot. We’re into extra time now and this game is going to the wire. Chris turns to me, with a look that says ‘I have a really, really good idea’.

“If Spain get this, I’m straight off to Temple Bar”.

They get it. 1 nil, and the anti-football of the Dutch has lost. We’re off, straight out the door towards Temple Bar. A small-scale Saint Patrick’s Day for Spaniards has kicked off from the bottom of Grafton Street, moving towards Temple Bar in drunken ecstacy . By the time we get to the fountain by College Green, it’s pure madness. We’re dancing around the thing, singing songs we don’t even understand. Brian, one of the lads who finds himself in the company of the drunken Spaniards, has to collect his car and can’t drink. This must have been a sight to sober eyes. Vuvuzelas and fountains come together, girls (and boys) get IN the thing, and Gardai look on and smile.

We stuff our face at Ray’s (Dublin’s best pizza, anyone who says otherwise is wrong) and head for Westmoreland Street and the bus home. BUT WAIT. It’s a woman with what look like vouchers for something. Something free perhaps. ALL IN.

We’re now in the doorway of what we know as Doran’s. It’s bizarre, the place is completely unrecognisable. The walls are decorated with bizarre Irish stuff, ranging from a Land War poster to a copy of the 1916 Proclamation, and loads of Guinness malarky. They’ve essentially tried to create a ‘traditional pub’ (whatever that is) out of nothing. What better way to compliment that than a bizarre 1980’s themed club?

Down the stairs and we’re into Madonna’s. Pints are ordered, and free shots handed over.

“Here, fill that up” says Simon, not responding well to a half empty plastic shot glass. You’d wonder why he asked, we’re essentially drinking Calpol. I’ve ordered a pint of Guinness, and when it returns I’m asked to fork over €5.50 for it. Brian is still taking in the things only a truly sober eye can notice, like the decor of the place. “You know anywhere with a carpeted floor is going to be classy”. Good observation that, take note.

If you’ve played Grand Theft Auto Vice City, this IS that nightclub.

When playing Vice City, this is when I take out my rocket launcher.

They’re playing Never Gonna Give You Up, and it’s not even closing time. Now they’re playing Michael Jackson. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun is next. The place has a sort of disco look to it, and a general sort of ‘bit of a laugh’ vibe off it. It’s a long, long way from what was here before it however, and feels about as genuine as the ‘traditional’ pub they’ve put upstairs. Everyone here seems to be a tourist, which says it all really. It’s sure to make enough money to survive in Temple Bar, but does Temple Bar need an eighties bar? Most of the kips in the area don’t look like they’ve changed much since then anyway.

I look forward to seeing what this is turned into next month. Still, what a night. I wouldn’t have changed a single thing.

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