T' be sure...

Right, I have finally recovered enough from St. Patrick's day (for 'day', read 'week') to provide you with another dose of drivel... so where better to start than March 17th itself!

I was invited down to the bar in the American Club here in Sinless City, the only venue where an actual Irish band with at least one Irish member was playing - yep, despite there being 11 Irish pubs in this city, every single one opted for bands playing contemporary covers... go figure. Maybe the American Club wanted something more 'Oirish' since they all believe they have a bit of the green in them, owing to the fact that their great-great-grandmother's third cousin's room-mate once owned a wolfhound that was Irish. Whilst enjoying my pint (not stout, as it's shit here, and none of that bloody lager with green fucking dye in it either) I noticed the special cocktails that were being advertised for the occasion and was, to be frank, slightly taken aback. Number two on the list was a delicious looking shooter called... a Belfast Bomber.

I'm not overly sensitive or anything, but come on - that is a little tasteless, methinks. And the Irish singer didn't seem especially amused either...

Cheers m'dears!