Shack, Dublin Rd, Athlone, Ireland.

A diminutive mentally dysfunctional bitch who throws, rather than serves, out-of-date food

The Shack, Dublin Rd, Athlone. Don’t expect
anything other than vulgarity and dirt.

One quick two-minute visit to the Shack is enough to send you away with severe stomach cramps. You won’t have actual food-poisoning as you flee because you will not have lingered long enough to eat.

A quick look at the slackjawed bastards who work here and the insane bitch who manages it and you’ll immediately want to eject the contents of your stomach. It’d be similar to the state of retching you’d experience if suddenly, on a hot summer’s day, you tripped and fell upon an animal’s decayed carcass which was crawling with maggots.

A husband and wife team own this Irish gastropub and the man is rather hands-off the running of it. He affects the demeanour of a gentleman and struts around the premises with the air of an aristocrat. His act isn’t very convincing, though, as his rural Irish backwardness and vulgarity leaves a very obvious slipstream of unrefinement trailing behind him.

Quays Bar, Northgate St, Athlone

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His wife, who’s a squat little bitch of about 5ft 2in, is the dominant one in managing the bar and kitchen and vulgar and contemptible doesn’t even begin to describe her.

This screenshot shows an online review about the Shack which gives good indication of the type of clientele. Note the reviewer informs he’s an ex-student of Athlone Institute of Technology, and he or she is probably telling the truth. Nice grammar, though, for a college graduate, isn’t it?

People have been given potatoes here that were actually black with decay, desserts (apple pie) which were saturated with mould and cups and glasses with the 1970’s hottest lipsticks still stuck to them.

All this would be bad enough if the food was served to you with a mediocre amount of civility. That wouldn’t be the case; the diminutive insane wife and her coterie of waitresses actually hurl it at you. Depending on what you ordered, you could have mashed potatoes, greasy french fries, curry sauce and rice, or a mixture of veg and gravy splattered up along your body and face. All the while this is going on two or three inbred arseholes, with their mouths hanging open, will be standing behind the bar staring into space.

The Shack’s kitchen is rumoured to be
very dirty with rat droppings all over.

If you point out that the food you’ve been served is decayed or mouldy the inbred manageress will verbally assault you with the viciousness of a scalded fishwife. The food will be snapped back and the replacement banged onto your table, with a probable further splattering of greasy particles on your clothes and head.

A local plumber who did maintenance in the Shack’s kitchen told of an unbelievable amount of rat droppings in the cupboards and worktops, with holes gnawed between the larders and well established rodent runways at the rear.

What about the Food Safety Authority of Ireland you might ask? Why aren’t these people enforcing hygiene in the Shack and other Irish gastropubs and restaurants? To answer these questions all I need mention is how a dead human body lay in an Irish food wholesaler’s freezer for almost 10 years.

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Charlies Bar, Cork

There’s not many who haven’t heard of the Irish people’s propensity for slowness, stupidity and backwardness. In Athlone and further west they take these three defects up a couple of notches; the insane bitch who manages the Shack surrounds herself with like-minded individuals, and even if she were of a mind to hire normal waitresses and kitchen staff she simply couldn’t find them in Athlone.

The Shack’s locals will (with obscure both-party compliance) fornicate like wild pigs at the weekend.

But if you’re a voyeur it isn’t all doom and gloom in the Shack. On a weekend night it’s not unusual to see some of the natives having sex in the pub. On one occasion a local hardman threw his girlfriend onto the floor and proceeded to shag her with all the tenderness of a wild boar raping an inheat sow. A crowd of his cronies cheered him on and his very sexually active wife made no bones about her having enjoyed every minute of it – which I think was about two minutes.

When the boyfriend was finished and doing up his trousers one of his friends started to undo his; he was intending to take up where the boyfriend left off. And the honorable lady, being obviously not satisfied, was quite willing to facilitate him but the boyfriend was having none of it. He was willing to go out with, and later marry, this well bored slut but he wasn’t going to countenance his buddies screwing her right there in front of him.