O Reilly’s: Tara St. Station.

O Reilly’s is a controversial one here at DBP. I dare say that there are few or no other pubs in the city that polarise the opinions of myself and Pintman № 2 quite like O Reilly’s does.

Now in the red corner, you have me – someone who considers themselves as something of a rocker. Admittedly I’m not in so deep that you’ll find me wearing leather in the summer, or at all really. And to be entirely truthful Fibber Magee’s is on the heavier side of the subculture I subscribe to. A pub such as O Reilly’s was to ingratiate itself to me by filling a void left in the wake of the dearly departed Eamon Doran’s in a timely manner. The offer of decent tunes that didn’t stay too heavy, too long coupled with one of the cheapest pints in town was a combination that warranted no critique on my part.

In the blue corner though you have Pintman № 2, more of a Mod than a rocker, and a man who reckons that the shot spinning wheel in O Reilly’s allows him to liken it to the type of pub you’d expect to find an electrical rodeo bull in. His assessment of the pub is then garnished with his opinion that the seating is too “dinner-tabley”.

(Pintman № 3 being his usual diplomatic self, plays the referee in this bout, in case you were wondering).

The pub itself lies under Tara St railway station and is divided into three main atriums. The fit-out is gothic-cum-ecclesiastical, defining features include metal chandeliers, church pews and a large fireplace. The lighting is mostly dim in keeping with the rock bar aesthetic. The pint has tended to be good but in the interest of full disclosure, it is worth mentioning that our last number of visits here have been at an ungodly hour, following an ungodly feed of pints.

O Reilly’s is a fine lesson in hypocrisy and subjectivity- in some parallel universe, I’d probably detest it. But it happened to hit all the right notes at the right time for me, so I don’t. Just don’t tell Pintman № 2.