McDonagh's Seafood Bar (Restaurant), 22 Quay St, Galway city, Ireland.

If you don’t agree with being short-changed, you’re not welcome back

McDonagh’s restaurant, Galway. The staff are generally atrociously stupid and ignorant.

We joined a short queue in McDonaghs at about 03:30pm and immediately witnessed an argument between a customer and a slackjawed waiter. The customer was an American and he was loudly insisting that the dwarfish moron who served him return his proper change.

This publication shot shows a somewhat civil looking employee. In real life, though, McDonagh’s staff have the countenance of snarling baboons.

The American tourist had purchased a fish and chip takeaway and – as is the custom in Galway – the inane cashier had short-changed him. The argument went on for quite a while; the halfwitted waiter, in face of the clear evidence that stated otherwise on the counter in front of him, insisted he had given the customer the correct change. 

The American looked at the overhead menu, totted up the price of what he’d bought, pointed to the change on the counter and, again, exasperatedly told the Galwegian arsehole that it was €5 short. It was clear from the American’s aggression, and the heated way he demanded his money be returned, that it wasn’t the first time an Oirish native had tried steal from him.

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My take on how Galway mussels would be prepared.

The tourist eventually got his money back but, unbelievably, the waiter was very sulky and aggressive in reimbursing him. The little bastard was semi-retarded but his reluctance to give proper change wasn’t entirely his own fault; the halfwits in most Galway businesses are encouraged by their bosses to short change tourists, especially Americans. 

They assume that US  tourists, in the early days of their holiday, will be confused with using the Euro; and, as such, they’ll be easy targets for short changing – from a psychological perspective: the imbecilic halfwits in Galway and Cork don’t view themselves as having a mental handicap; instead, they believe the rest of the world’s population to be stupid.

Though, overcharging, or short-changing, is by no means confined to Americans; it doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from, if you use cash to pay in Galway, be it anything from a newspaper to a set of tyres for your car, they’ll attempt to defraud you.

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About five minutes after the American had left we reached the counter and ordered food from another cashier. And what do you fucking know? She left my change €7 short. When I pointed it out she denied it with the ferociousness of a demented terrier. This was the sixth time in three days we’d been short-changed in Galway and we weren’t going to let it go. I asked to see the manager and told the cashier we wouldn’t be having the food. I intoned she could keep the change that was lying on the counter and demanded she return the €50 note I had paid with.

They’ll short-change you and then react like feral terriers when they're challenged.

Her preposterous reply to this was to tell us she’d “call the Guards” (Oirish police) – when the Oirish inbreeds are put on the spot they come up with the most fatuous of threats. I told this Oirish piece-of-shit she could call whom she liked and just then a male appeared on the scene and arrogantly asked us if we “had a problem”. I responded by telling him, “not as many as you, you halfwitted idiot,” and then demanded my €50 back. The arsehole replied by telling me: “we don’t return money”. Even for me – a person with a lot of experience of how atrociously backward and stupid the Galway native is – this man’s infantilism was surprising.

I counted to ten and bit my bottom lip while my friend incredulously asked him if he thought for one moment that we were going to leave without our money – she later admitted that she thought I’d been exaggerating a little about the Oirish Pict’s moronism; obviously this episode in McDonaghs had proved to her I wasn’t. Then another male showed up and, after raised voices, our money was very reluctantly returned. As we headed for the door I announced to nobody in particular that the fish was probably stored with a dead human body and that we’d not miss the gastroenteritis that it would most likely have given us.

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Most in Galway are inane like local politician Michael Stroke Fahy.

The witless male who’d eventually refunded us didn’t like this and actually shouted after us that we “weren’t to come back” – the ridiculous inbred bastards in Galway would really take your breath away. To this I said: “thanks moron for showing everyone how fucking completely and utterly stupid and inbred you actually are” – because the truth hurts, these arseholes get especially upset at being called inbred.

Something that pleased me about this fiasco in McDonaghs was that at least half a dozen people who’d been behind us in the queue didn’t have any food and instead followed us out the door. Outside, one of them, a French lady, approached and asked what my “stored with a dead human body” had meant. I explained, and then gave her the address for this blog – I think, because of what I’d told her about the body, she was actually retching as she walked away.  

What I’ll say about the backward bastards you’ll encounter in the west and south-west of Ireland is that you couldn’t fully relate their stupidity in writing or through word of mouth. You have to experience them for yourself to completely realise how absolutely asinine they are. The dead human body in the freezer, the antics of the barman in Taaffes Bar and the prep-chef in the Quay’s Restaurant give good indication of what a stay in Galway will be like. But you have to spend time with them personally to get an innate feel for their subhuman mentality.

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The yellow shaded areas are 99.9% Picts.

The political correct cocoon that for the last 25-years has kept Pict Oirish backwardness and mongrelism from being made public is cracked and soon about to be totally shattered – a lot of people are totally fed up with having wasted their annual holidays in Pict Ireland and want to save others from the same mistake. 

The inanity and general debauchedness of the typical Pict native would disgust monkeys. The arseholes in a Galway pub, for instance, won’t just try short-change you once, they’ll try it every single time you buy a round. And when challenged they’ll either get aggressive or grin like a lobotomised chimp – the landlords are just as fatuous.

If you're unfortunate enough to be going to Pict Ireland remember that it’s far from a regular holiday destination. You should treat a vacation in Galway, Cork or Kerry as a cross between a safari and a survival exercise with stone-age tribes-people. And bring a plentiful supply of upset stomach medication, you’ll definitely need it if you’re going to dine out – also keep your psychiatrist on speed-dial; after a couple of days with the mongrel Oirish you’ll need to talk to someone with understanding.