Crane Bar, Galway, Ireland.

Sidestep the littered toilet paper and dodge the aggressive beggars

A half-hour in this dirty backward hole is more than most can endure.

An evening here and you’ll see and experience true west-of-Ireland consanguinity and stupidity. Young European backpackers are known to have got weak with shock after viewing what’s on offer in this Oirish dive.

Be prepared for half-witted mentally unstable staff, proprietor and a clientele who’d be just as happy screwing their own parents or siblings as they are stamping their feet to a squealing violin in this God-forsaken manky hole.

Two English anglers walked in here one Saturday afternoon and immediately upon reaching the bar were surrounded by a coterie of inbred natives. This troop of slack-jawed locals, as is often the case in Galway, were short of money and made it plain they fancied a free drink.

The two British chaps, being obviously uneased, looked towards the barmaid hoping she’d call-off this band of subhumans, or at least offer some reassurance. Alas, the ginger-headed slackjawed inbred barmaid didn’t make any effort to control her compatriots, instead she developed an oblong sneer that would do justice to any self-proud nutcase.

Slackjawed drunken bastards stamping their feet to screeching ill-tuned instruments.

The two visitors, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, and realising that they had walked into a ‘scum-pit’, bought the six scumbags who surrounded them a round of drink. 

After having been there for 6- or 7-minutes and having been relieved of around €25 they slipped away to the sound of the ginger-headed barmaid leading her cronies in laughter.

The proprietor is also as coarse as a pig’s arse and, like the majority of natives, is probably sociopathic. A gombeen Irish mongrel who in any other country would be barred from working with foodstuffs or drink.

Cleanliness is something they don’t do here; the floor was littered with trash and pieces of dog shit that had been trodden on and dragged in from the street. Bits of wet toilet paper, that had been carried on people’s shoes from the toilet, also littered (we suspect some of it had even been used) the floor and hung from the footrests of the stools.

The countertop is never wiped and spilt beer, spirits, spittle and snot constantly run over both edges; on the outside it splatters onto customers clothes, while on the inside it spills down into the glasses that wait to be filled for Ireland’s tourists.

The dim and diminutive twat Higgins who’s a famous Galway resident; whose presence seemingly couldn’t increase its civility beyond that of monkeys. By the way wouldn’t he look well in a green suit and pointy hat?

To use the toilet you’ll have to wade through piss, and above mentioned toilet paper, and also fend of numerous inbred locals who’ll be aggressively begging for money and cigarettes.

Do the management try to deter these acerbic beggars? Not in the least, they seem to be proud of them and, if anything, offer encouragement.

But then the typical inbred bastard in Galway isn’t much more than a beggar; a lowlife who’d lick the soles of visitors shoes in order to relieve them of money, and when they think there’s nothing more to get they’d piss on them.

On the Saturday evening we spent studying these inbred backward bastards two Swiss couples came in. They got themselves drinks and then split up; both couples taking seats at opposite ends of the pub. The odd seating arrangement had its reasons; they had between them two video cameras and wanted to get as much coverage as possible. 

They knew what to expect in this backward Oirish dive; had been informed beforehand of the backward mongrelism that the native Irish partook in. They weren’t disappointed, and like us they never even touched the drinks that they had been served in filthy glasses.

A group of drugged-out crazies running an illicit shebeen in a backwoods wouldn’t be as dirty, ignorant or coarse as these ignoramus bastards in Galway, Ireland.