Imperial Hotel, Eyre Square, Galway, Ireland.

Told her: “ah, so you're deaf as well as stupid and ugly”.  

Imperial Hotel, Galway.

Our first encounter in the Imperial Hotel was with a nauseatingly pugnacious receptionist. This inbred Galwegian bitch would immediately make up your mind about whether or not you’d spend a few days in Galway – after just seconds in her company you’d be checking google maps for the nearest road east.

Through spraying spittle and swiveling eyes she told us that there were rooms available; as if we were utterly stupid to even enquire as to whether or not they had vacancies – imagine someone on safari, with a hyena clamped onto their groin, asking where all the animals were!

When we asked about car parking her slackjawed mouth sagged further open and, with an air of smug condescension, she told us: “Galway city is full of car parks”. I replied: “Oh I see, there’s lots of car parks in Galway,” and then emphatically adding, “but does the fucking hotel have car-fucking-parking facilities for its fucking guests?” On hearing this her blotchy face went even more crimson and her body started to jerk like someone had shoved a short-circuited 220 Volt 12-inch vibrator up the wrong orifice.

• Human body spends six years in Galway freezer.
• Galway prep-chef wipes veg against his anus.
• Galway barman urinates on customers shoes.

Brendan Fevola, Australian footballer,
doesn’t do idiots – apart from
strangling them.

This receptionist was sickeningly laughable from start to finish; very typical of the type of utter arsehole you’d meet in any Galway premises, be it pub, restaurant, supermarket, nightclub or bank. With the arrogant bitch frothing from her mouth and shuddering like a jumping jenny I suggested to my partner that we forget about staying and instead check-out what the food was like.   

An Australian gentleman, Brendan Fevola, lost-the-rag with a moronic barman, Paul Murray, in this hotel and made attempt to throttle him – after our encounter with the receptionist we can totally understand his actions. Luckily for Mr Fevola, common-sense prevailed and he received a slap-on-his-wrist as chastisement. Fevola’s superiors were probably aware of the type of inbred arseholes he’d have had to endure in Galway.

There’s absolutely nothing positive that can be said about this hotel – or, for that matter, inbred Galway. The staff are so nauseatingly vulgar that’d you’d assume they’re sourced from the local mental health asylum. To partake of the hotel’s carvery or bar is to undergo a ritual of coarseness that Caligula wouldn’t tolerate in his jesters – the type of aggressive unstable loon that you’d expect to find serving food and drink in the 18 century Bastille.

Galwegians will tie up any type of crap and try selling it as meat.

When we visited the Imperial’s eatery a middle aged male was in command behind the carvery; his main task comprised carving the meat joints and a more self-important twat couldn’t be imagined. He was a slackjawed arsehole who inspected every one in the queue from toe to head – to ascertain if they were good enough for his and the hotel’s esteemed service? We ordered roast beef and what this idiot laid on our plates consisted more of grizzle and cartilage than actual meat; and the portion sizes suggested the Oirish famine was still in full flight. As a consequence we informed him that we weren’t buying this food for a pair of cats; that we had intended to eat it ourselves. (Although if we did give these miniscule slices of grizzle to a cat he’d break his teeth or choke himself in trying to chew them.)

Aoiffe Madden, Ireland’s most famous bulging eyes.

Typically for a west-of-Ireland native he got very aggressive at this comment; the fucking moron, with his eyes bulging outwards1, threateningly told us we had got the same as everyone else – he left us in no doubt why Mr Fevola lost his cool and attempted to throttle one of them. I then cheekily leaned towards him and covertly suggested that everyone else he had served were probably native inbred bastards who were still in famine mode, and that they probably wouldn’t know the difference between mahogany and beef.

On hearing this the meat carver’s mouth, as if in slow motion, started to open and close but no sound emerged; and his eyes seemed as if they’d pop out on the floor – his eyeballs bulged out far enough to take on the size of two golf balls. Fearing he’d throw a knife or utensil at us we quickly pushed the plates of slop down the rails towards the till. When we reached it we asked the simpleminded cashier if we’d have to pay full charge for the bits of beefy carn and disgustingly sloopy veg we’d been given.

I’ll admit that our description of the meals wasn’t very diplomatic but diplomacy isn’t something that’s done in Galway; when dealing with these arseholes you put tact into storage – and if you stay around them long enough you’ll eventually go insane and, like Fevola, start choking them.

• 800 Galway infants dumped in septic tank.
• Galway brother and sister get married.
• Raped and sodomised in Galway mental health facility.

The Picts first response to upset is pop-out-eyes.

The halfwitted shrewish cashier, knowing we’d argued with the meat carver, responded by baring her blackened and rotted teeth and loudly (rock concert decibels) informed us that the prices were on the menu – she’d have been delighted that the entire establishment heard her patronising diatribe. For the second time that day I leaned towards someone and told them they were an ignorant inbred mongrel. Being told this caused her to forcibly slap her hands down on the till, which gave off a sequence of pings and dings, and, with sweat beads popping out on her face, she demanded: “what did you just say”. I then looked into her insanely enlarged eyes and told her: “ah, so you're deaf as well as stupid and ugly”.  

Nothing is dumped if the Galway arsehole thinks some idiot will buy it.

My friend and I had quite an audience at this stage and, believing in the adage, ‘he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day,’ we quickly trotted out the door and down the street. We’re sure though that the plates of soggy indecipherable veg and cow provenanced grizzle2 that we left behind didn’t go to waste. This is, after all, Galway, and, regardless of whatever bodily secretions, germs or viruses we’d have inadvertently deposited on the food, it would have been recycled to other customers.

I’ve even heard it said that leftovers taken back from tables in Galway is repotted and dished back out to those coming after. This I’d have no problem believing; these people are a subspecies, thick bastards with a chip on their shoulders who’d do anything to put others down, including feeding them shit.

Below is screenshots from various posts on TripAdvisor.com that show other reviews of Imperial Hotel, Galway:

Odhrán G

 This review by Odhrán G tells it all. “Staff were awful,” is a typical sentiment from people unfortunate enough to spend time in Galway. What’s also interesting about this review is that a manager showed themselves to be every bit as vulgar and coarse as the uncouth staff member. That’s what you’ll find in Galway, you’ll walk into a pub, restaurant, hotel or shop and be immediately greeted by a complete arsehole; and if you ask to see the owner or manager you’ll find that they are just as ignorant and imbecilic.

Sinead Galvin

Here, Sinead Galvin, gives verification of the aggressive and rude receptionist. And she also tells of a waitress demanding that guests hurry up and leave. The problem with Galway is that even if they did try to hire civil and normal staff they simply wouldn’t be able to find them. Most of the population in this part of Ireland suffer some type of mental dysfunction; and any outsiders who try living there soon get pissed-off and leave.

Mature Couple

This Mature Couple have also found the staff to be very rude and wouldn’t frequent this hotel again. But rudeness and coarseness is what the natives in Galway are. Centuries of breeding with cousins means they're diminutive, dumb and aggressive. This is why they’ll feed you other people’s leftovers and how a human body could remain in a fish suppliers' freezer for almost a decade.

Venere Guest

Italian, Venere Guest, couldn’t resist relating her disgust at this hotel. Obviously s/he had issues with car parking; when they enquired they were probably sanctimoniously told about all the car-parks that were within 10 kilometers.

Gerry Fagin, Cork, Ireland?

If I were to post a review for the Imperial Hotel on TripAdvisor.com this is what it probably would be like.  

________________ 1It’s very easy to upset the inbred Oirish Picts; their first reaction to an unfavourable comment or action is for their eyes to bulge outwards like a bullfrog’s. Aoiffe Madden (pic above) clearly shows this mongrel trait: it’s a characteristic that’s also ubiquitous with the Irish Travelling community (gypsies). When the Oirish gypsies get annoyed their eyes also bulge out of their sockets; this bodily quirk stems from mental unstableness, an insanity that’s born of inbreeding. It goes to show that the Pict natives in Galway and Cork are of the same race and provenance as the Irish gypsies.

2In most Galway carveries they use the cheapest cuts of meat. If you order the roast beef you’ll probably be given brisket which is one of the cheaper cuts of meat that is streaked through with connective tendons (otherwise known as grizzle). The slackjawed butchers in this part of Ireland, when dressing the meat, don’t remove the inedible bits because it lowers the weight and thus the price. This might play a part in why the Pict’s lower mandibles always hang down around their 5th or 6th ribs: a lifetime chewing cartilage and ligaments would surely exacerbate one’s slackjawedness.