I WAS AT THE BAR, DEEP in conversation with a delightful young gothic girl, when the music on the hi-fi twanged off and out. Phil the barman had been trying to butt into the conversation, which I thought was extremely rude. His comments of “Hoi! Go outside if you’re going to do that!”, and “You dirty bugger! There’s people trying to drink in here!” were quite distracting. The jealous old sod had even flicked a towel at me while I was innocently trying to clear a space on the end of the bar so that we could get more comfortable. So much for Irish hospitality. It made me grateful that my distant ancestors had decided not to swim across to the emerald isle after all.
A cloud of smoke billowed from under the stage. The lights dimmed. It looked as if the main act of the evening was about to ma
