rabble’s usual round up of shizzle we’re liking…
Ah the aul Dublin Coddle, sure ye can’t beat it. But c’mere to me, yiz know it’s one of the most tasty meals a mammy can cook up for her chizzlers, but did yiz also know where the meal itself came from. *Slurp* Well, back in the old old days, when dublin was but a town with a hurdled ford, it’d be under attack from all sorts of wild bands and tribes and farddeners, and sure didn’t these original dubs know how to defend themselves. *gulp* Fightin them all off and winning. And sure didn’t the Druids tell the chief and his men that there’d be great power to be got from eatin’ the defeated parties, to gain their strength and such. *hic* Well, didn’t they dig right in, and sure we all know the todgers are the tastiest part, and sure didn’t they boil them up before they ate them, throwin in a couple of spuds, onions and some skin as well, being wonderful chefs and all. Of course since there does be laws against eatin mickeys now, we have to substitute with the next best thing. Thats right you are, a few little sossys. So there, thats something to think about that next time you’re over at you ma’s callin out for your bowl of boiled willies. Well, I’ll be seein ya.
2. Dublin’s hidden Parks
With the summer almost on us we rabble will be looking for a place to sweat out the poisons on a sunny Saturday. But with St.Stephen’s heaving under Spanish school kids and the new unemployed where does a young rabblista go for some peace and UV? Let us suggest some quieter spots each side of the river. The Iveagh Gardens between Harcourt St and Leeson St. is a walled paradise forgotten almost all year except for the Overpriced Taste of Dublin weekend. Just a minute’s stagger from the bars of Wexford St. is the magical Cemetery of St.Kevin’s Church on Camden Row. The North Inner City hosts the magnificent Blessington St. Basin off Dorset St., it’s a haven for birds (feathered) and oul wans so you’ll not look out of place comatose on a bench.
3. Micro breweries in Dublin
We’re a beer drinking nation, but we tend to be content with mass produced global brand names when we could do better. That’s why we respect craft-beers made by true aficionados. A pint of Brew Dog’s Punk IPA, or Blue Moon Belgian Weiss get your taste buds buzzing. Places like Against the Grain, the Black Sheep and The Bull and Castle have an unbelievable selection of craft beer, on tap and bottled. They stock a lot of produce from Irish microbreweries too; it’s great to see the locals being represented (O’Hara’s, Dungarvan, and Whitewater breweries are some fine examples). For the sake of a quid more for a pint it’s worth it, even if you may stumble across some funkier tasting specimens before finding the ones you love the most.
4. Northern Soul
Northern Soul, the movement that emerged from the British mod scene in the late 1960s, has been described by many as “the first rave culture”. Peaking in the mid to late 1970s, hundreds of young working-class men and women, boarded buses and traveled to far off cities to attend such legendary clubs as The Wigan Casino, the Golden Torch (Stoke) and the Twisted Wheel (Manchester). Often powered by amphetamines, they’d dance in these alcohol-free clubs to the sound of rare heavy beat, fast tempo Tamla Motown inspired soul from midnight to dawn. Sleepless Nights Soul Club, Dublin’s longest running, are celebrating their 10th anniversary this year and are planning an all-Dayer with 10 DJs. Venue to be announced. Keep the faith.
5. Hangover free Saturday mornings
Weekends are like groundhog day. Finish work/study on a Friday, and hit the pub pronto. One pint leads to a kidnapping by the session pixies and you wake up the following day (if not Sunday…) with a severe dose of the fear. You seek consolation off Facebook that you didn’t do anything too stupid the night before and gobble some Neurofen+. The most productive thing you’ll do all day is float between couch, fridge and kettle. Yet, there are those magical weekends where you decide to take it easy. Well done, you’ve discovered Saturday without a hangover. Now, go into town, discover endless positive things to do – yet get bored by 4pm and end up in the pub rewarding yourself with afternoon pints. It’s Dublin folks, stop fooling yourselves – the Lord made Sunday for hangovers.
Coddle is great, perfect hostel food when you’re travelling because it looks like congealed baby sick the morning after. Nobody robs that shit.
A wet fry!
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