America, Countries, Food & Wine, Ireland

How to pour the perfect pint of Guinness

And you’d expect the owner of the company at least to know how to pour the perfect pint of Guinness, but alas not.

Edward Guinness’s cack-handed tilt is, of course, not the only inaccuracy in The House of Guinness, but it is the most serious.

Eddie makes a set piece of showing Fenian firebrand Ellen how to pour the stout out of a bottle in the Stephen Knight Netflix series.

Using the whole theatre of the moment in a posh Dublin hotel.

Tilting in wrong direction

Every cloud: She’s gone early

To point out that patience is essential for the perfect Guinness.

And that the same ought to be applied to the fight for an Irish republic.

Only that he has the tilt all wrong and that the head is too thin.

Now, as with all matters, we always go the experts.

And in the absence of my Donegal hotelier grandpa or my four Irish publican uncles. I’ll settle on the next big thing.

The Guinness Storehouse at St James’s Gate in The Liberties, Dublin who advise.

The initial pour

Settling down: Just how it should be

Hold your glass at a 45-degree angle and aim the tap nozzle for the gold harp logo.

Pour until you reach the top of the harp, then stop.

Let it settle

Accessorise: With your own image

Set the Guinness down and let it rest, which is called the ‘surge and settle’ phase.

The darker stout slowly sinks under the creamy, white foam.

Top off the pint

What goes up: Gravity Bar

Settle your drink for about a minute beforeyou fill up the rest of the glass.

With the glass straight, fill until the foam forms a dome for the perfect Guinness head.

And all of which I learned first hand for myself in a little corner of Ireland.

They call Las Vegas and Rí Rá Irish Pub at The Shoppes at Mandalay Place.

Countries, Ireland

Standing in the middle of the pool

They do things differently in Ireland so don’t be surprised to get blocked by oul biddies standing in the middle of the pool.

The Grand Hotel where said oul biddies congregate is an institution in the coastal town of Malahide, nine miles north of Dublin.

An old favourite of ours, it is getting a makeover when we revisit, in need of their legendary Sunday carvery.

Only to find that the new American owners have packed it away in favour of fine dining in the restaurant.

Which means we hold our family reunion in the bar.

Though to be fair their seafood is of the supersized variety and is so fresh it could be aroused if you only wagged its tail.

A stroke of luck

Statues: The Arena Health club

We arouse ourselves too after a night of reminiscing, for a reviving swim in the hotel’s Arena health club, across the pathway.

Where Fionnuala and Bridgid obviously like to meet for their catch-up, bang in the middle of one of the swimming lanes.

Standing up and wagging their tails as they bellyache.

And blocking this breastroker’s passage to the other end.

Not that they’re in any way acting differently to those who actually swim.

As I’m given out to for catching one of them with my back-kick.

Bullish in the Irish Sea

Sea us: North Dublin Swim Club

Better then if you have the whole sea to swim in as the North Dublin Swim club enjoy.

Off Bull Island, an idyllic 5-mile stretch off Clontarf, and a magnet for golfers, twitchers and dog walkers.

As well as sea swimmers, who pump up the volume and their boom box.

And brave the chilly, but reviving waters, all against the background of the Doonbeg Chimneys.

Out There

Me and the birds: In the Happy Out keep

All power to them as I was rarely brave enough in our 13 years in Ireland to test the waters.

Jumping in as quickly as I entered the iconic Forty Foot Dublin Bay bathing area in Dún Laoghaire, cited in James Joyce’s Ulysses.

Pride of place in the queue at the one shed/cafe on Bull island Happy Out should, of course, go to the plucky swimmers,

Only they are still drying off when we arrive.

Happy Out is friendly, attentive, our Scrambled Egg with bacon pots take the good part of 25 minutes.

Feathered friends

And our new chum in the hide that now constitutes the indoor eating area helps himself to some of that.

But we can’t be churlish, this is Stanny Starling and his feathered friends’ island and we are only visitors.

It is too Fionnuala and Brigid’s land so they are entitled to stand around in the middle of the pool if they please.

Feeding time: For Stanny

Because I am still, despite my 13 years in Ireland and Irish ancestry a blow-in.

Although if I do follow Daughterie’s lead and get myself an Irish passport as is my due I will get a full say.

And then you’ll have something to worry about.

A night’s classic twin room for two at the Grand is from €155 per night.

 

 

 

 

Countries, Ireland

Thinking outside the telephone box

It has always been a sign that they do things differently in Ireland to Britain and they’re still thinking outside the telephone box.

A retro young Seventies woman occupies the green Telefón box opposite our Parkview Hotel in Newtownmountkennedy in Co. Wicklow.

Where once she would be scrambling for her pennies to put into the slot to make her call (ask your parents).

She is now a mannequin curio.

Nor would she look out of place in the time capsule that is Johnnie Fox’s in Glencullen just up the road.

And billed as the highest pub in Ireland and where we sup Guinnesses and house stout, with pilots and new pals, local and afar.

Step back in time

Old Woman: And mine at their grand estate front

We are on a whistlestop three-nighter back in my Dear Old Mum’s Irish heartland.

Retracing our own steps from 13 years living in Greystones and working in rugby central Ballsbridge in Dublin 4.

And will mark her today in what would have been her 97th birthday.

Although, of course, she walks with us every day.

And danced with us, Teasy’s Baby, and Daddy’s Daughterie last night.

As the house singer belted out Van Morrison’s Brown-Eyed Girl.

And we worked off our bangers and mash and Murphy’s stout.

The Garden of Ireland

Scottish style: Back In East Lothian

Today, we breakfast at the gardens which give this bordering county to Dublin its reputation.

And old friends, the Slazengers, at their grand estate and exclusive hotel, shopping Mecca and wedding venue.

In Powerscourt, near Bray.

Before taking over the Grand Hotel, Malahide in northern Co. Dublin.

Home from home for my parents on family get-together.

With my mum’s doppelgänger sister, Nance, matriarch of the McNultys and the greater brood.

Malahide and Mums

We will eat, drink, be merry and the craic will pass 90.

And we will toast the Teasy on her birthday, loud enough for them all to hear it up above, or down below.

Where they’ll either be jigging with St Peter or laying down the best beats with Beelzebub.

For best rates at the Parkview and the Grand Hotel Malahide and attractions mentioned here visit their sites.

And, of course, Ireland is served by Aer Lingus. Ryanair, all major airlines and ferries.

 

 

Countries, Ireland

Wednesday Addams in the Garden of Ireland

It’s enough to put a smile on the face of any goth teenager… Wednesday Addams in the Garden of Ireland.

Whoever persuaded the world’s sassiest adolescent to exchange Creepy Towers for verdant Wicklow deserves a pay rise.

The second series of Wednesday, the Addams Family spin-off, drops on Netflix today.

And Wicklow film and TV fans, long used to seeing movie stars in their midst, have been spotting Jenna Ortega out and about.

At my old go-to afternoon out for tourist visitors, Powerscourt Demesne in Enniskerry.

Wednesday’s words

Wicked Wednesday: Jenna in Ireland. Cr. Jonathan Hession/Netflix © 2025

Jenna let her Wednesday mask slip when stopped and asked about her Wicklow getaway.

My favourite thing is just how kind the people were.’

While Daddy Gomez was equally effusive, saying: ‘The landscape here is sensational, so beautiful, so nostalgic.’

And to view them in character click here and here.

Now because we are always pleased to drive the whole of the country we should say that the Addams went on an all-Ireland adventure.

And took in Charleville Castle in County Offaly and Dublin’s atmospheric Deansgrange Cemetery.

Powerscourt’s power pals

They’re kooky: The Addams family.  Cr. Helen Sloan/Netflix © 2025

Tourism Ireland’s behind the scenes films add to a panoply of great shoots in Ireland’s Hollywood.

For our old friends the Slazengers at Powerscourt they count these stellar visitors as friends.

Tom Cruise, Ryan O’Neal, Rock Hudson, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Sally Field and Anne Hathaway.

Ireland’s film industry centres around its movie studios in Ardmore near the county’s biggest town Bray.

And another Thing: Addams family fave. Cr. Courtesy of Netflix © 2025

And like Jenna, Hollywood’s finest love the informality of the locals and just shooting the breeze in the seaside town.

With Britney Spears, no less, checking in to a tattoo parlour in the town on a flying visit.

While the great Sinead O’Connor made Bray hers and her children’s friends, including Daughterie, her home.

Another Hollywood in Wicklow

Once upon a time in Ireland: Hollywood

With all this pixie dust just an hour south of Dublin the good folk of Wickla have been quick to promote their Hollywood links.

Of course, it helps when you’ve got a ready-made village called Hollywood in the Wicklow foothills.

The story goes that in 1850 Wicklow native Matthew Guirke fled the Famine for America and named his homestead after his village.

While we’d never suggest you miss the opportunity to visit the American Hollywood the Irish version has one big advantage.

Across the water: Bandanaman at the Hollwyood sign

You will be allowed up to the letters without fear of a fine and being shouted down on a loudspeaker by LA cops.

A new pathway enables people to visit the upgraded aluminum sign in Wicklow for the first time.

And permits them to visit a site which they could only photographed previously. 

Now we can’t vouch if our favourite Goth teen got her selfie there.

But we’d say Wednesday Addams in the Garden of Ireland was an adventure she’ll never forget.

 

Countries, Ireland, Pilgrimage, UK

Bruce, the Scottish and Irish Lions and a united Celtland

And for the weekend that’s in it an opportunity to mark Bruce, the Scottish and Irish Lions and a united Celtland.

Because what we don’t get taught in school is that Scotland and Ireland were indeed united for what must have been three glorious years.

Under the banner of Edward Bruce from 1315-1318.

And you might be familiar with his brother Robert, the King of the Scots, aka Chris Pine,

An alternative future

Bruce Almighty: Edward

Edward Bruce’s reign may have been short lived but it offered a tantalising look into an alternative future.

For these Celtic peoples and indeed the Norman Anglo-Irish and their descendants.

Of course, for these weeks in this the year of the Lord 2015.

On sporting fields a thousand miles away in a different colony, Australis, we are all one team.

A British and Irish Lions rugby union select.

And woe betide anyone who abbreviates that to British Lions.

Or worse as in the case of passport pilferer Tony Cascarino who miscalled the elite combo England despite representing Ireland.

My noble bloodline

Pine for the crown: The Bruce’s

Now thanks to the excellent Sky History Channel and your favourite blogger’s obsessive interest in the past.

We can relive the days After Braveheart when Scotland and Ireland mastered perfidious Albion.

While the might of the English (and entrapped Welsh) armies and the British Empire colonised Ireland for 700 years.

The Irish and the Scots have managed to stay close through bloodlines.

With this descendant of Irish and Scots stock.

As a Murty, a direct descendant of the High King Muirchertach of Brian Boru’s blood.

And I’m not making this up!

And say an Ave there for me

Fair fact: Edward in battle

And so if Edward Bruce’s name was not writ large in English-told history it does not mean we cannot honour him here.

Or point historians, patriots or those who just like a good story to his plot.

At Faughart Cemetery, near Dundalk in County Louth.

Hero’s rest: Edward’s site

Near the modern lines of a border between the North and South of the island of Ireland.

We’re sure his spirit will welcome any of a Scots and Irish set who pays a pilgrimage and says a prayer.

And celebrates Bruce, the Scottish and Irish Lions and a united Celtland.

Countries, Europe, Ireland, Oceania

Iceland & Ireland the world’s most peaceful countries

The tired gag was ‘One letter and six months’ for Europe’s outliers, but who’s had the last laugh now with Iceland & Ireland the world’s most peaceful countries.

So who says so… well us, but also Condé Nast’s Global Peace Index.

Who mark countries on lack of corruption, a functioning government, a robust economy, fair distribution of resources.

A free flow of information and good neighbourly relations.

Lucky geezers: In Iceland

And that’s something to bang your saucepan about which is how the Icelanders expressed their dissatisfaction outside parliament.

Now full disclosure here there is more than a letter apart in my experience of Ireland and Iceland.

As we’ve yet to take the plunge into the Blue Lagoon or the bougie boutique hotels in the Land of Fire and Ice.

Or taken the Icelandair option of stop-off to America.

Irish solution

The craic: In Dublin

Aussie philanthropist Steve Killelea (and he must be Irish with a name like that) describes Iceland thus:

‘One of the most stunning countries in the world, like a moonscape covered in snow.

‘It also hasn’t had an internal conflict since 1008 AD when no more than 100 people died.’

As a lesson in conflict resolution Ireland is an example with nearly 30 years of sustained peace in the North.

And you can learn the secrets of that success in the reconciliation hub that is the haven that is Glencree in Co. Wicklow.

Condé Nast describes the Land of Saints and Scholars as boasting ‘striking vistas and storybook towns’.

Lands of bliss

Hail Māori: NZ integration

We’ll leave Antipodean Steve to wax lyrical on New Zealand, third on the list.

‘Because of the way it’s honoured indigenous rights, the peace treaty with the Māoris when the British arrived is held to this day.’

And we can share Steve’s admiration for another country who have integration licked, the Swiss.

Idyllic: Narnia in Switzerland

Fifth on the index Switzerland scores ‘with four official languages coexisting, it takes a remarkable political system to hold that together.

‘By its very nature, it shows us how different cultures can live harmoniously and respectfully within one system.’

Taking a breather: In the Austrian Tirol

In these Alpine parts, of course, No. 4 Austria is never far apart either geographically or in life experience.

Which we’d agree with too and the remarks ‘Austria’s majestic peaks, vast plains and postcard-perfect lakes are as peaceful as they look.’

Pointing too to Vienna’s top spot in the rankings in the 2024 Economist Intelligence Unit.

The ideal getaways

Where to go: Ireland

Now as our lives grow ever busier those who compile these listicles for us and do the heavy lifting for us are a Godsend.

Which leaves us to make our own links and ignore the simplistic jibes of those who don’t make these lists.

The ones that tell the real truth… Iceland & Ireland the world’s most peaceful countries.

 

America, Countries, Europe, Ireland, UK

A wee daughter of Donegal picking up the birthday bill

There’s a banquet today at the Lord’s table with a wee daughter of Donegal picking up the birthday bill.

And woe betide anyone, God included, who gets in her way.

Of course, for Donegal, read Dublin, Glasgow or Galway, Newtowmountkennedy or New York.

Or anywhere my Dear Old Mum, who will be surely celebrating her 96th birthday today in heaven, wined and dined us.

Handbags at Dawn

In any language: Over who pays

Anyone who has spent any time with the Irish of that golden generation will recognise the women who pay the bill.

Or seen the advert on Irish television where two women discuss who will fork up for the fare.

Ending, of course, in them battering each other over the head with handbags.

It has been my great fortune to have been able to break bread with the force of nature that was Teasy for nearly six decades.

And never once did she let me, or anyone else, pay.

Teasy’s table

Prize gal: At the National Piping Centre in Glasgow

Not on any of the big occasions, my 50th birthday, at the Hydro in Peebles in the Scottish Borders.

Nor any of the times when we were living in Co. Wicklow and would meet relatives in the Grand Hotel, Malahide, north of Dublin… 

Nor in her homestead of Donegal in the north-west of Ireland.

Cocktail hour: With Mum in Co. Wicklow

And we had one of our many mini-fall-outs when we attended my NYFD cousin’s wedding in New York.

And she forced money into my hand to pay for everyone and then apologised to said cousin when they paid our way.

Our shout

On a pedestal: Me and Mum at the Chooky Welly statue

While on the one occasion I was able to treat her, in her adopted city of Glasgow, she couldn’t help herself either.

And when the good people of the Glasgow Tourist board asked for the bill at the end of our meals, her purse would come out.

A lot of head scratching followed before the next lunch or meal and the same scenario played out again… and as for the cost of the hotel.

Teasy’s wide-eyed appetite for life could only be seen to be believed and she wondered in awe that anybody would pay my way to write about their wares.

Of course, Teasy, had the final word at our last supper before we returned her to the Donegal sod  last week.

A wee daughter of Donegal picking up the birthday bill still.

 

 

 

Countries, Food & Wine, Ireland, UK

Tayto surrender or you’ll fry

Everything is political in Northern Ireland, right down to the humble potato chip, or crisp, which is what is behind the clarion cry Tayto surrender or you’ll fry.

Not, of course, wanting to upset any Apprentice Boy.

And Orange Walk flautist or big bass drummer here you understand.

By putting an irreverent spin on one of their loyalist anthems which celebrates their community’s defiance against catholicism.

When back in 1688 13 Apprentice Boys locked the gates of the walled city of Derry.

And protestant stronghold from the advancing Jacobite force.

And held out for seven months with the loss of 4,000 people to starvation or injury.

Marching on your stomachs

Pretty grim then but a source of great pride to the protestant community.

They celebrate the resistance annually in Derry on 28 August with a big colourful Orange march.

When they oft-repeat the cri de couer of those lads ‘No Surrender.’

So what then has that to do with the humble crisp?

Well, the potato has long been more than just an odd-shapes dirty vegetable on the island of Ireland.

As it provided sustenance to the indigenous people of the island, the catholics.

Poster boy: Politics in the south

When they were forced on to the poorer land by the invader Oliver Cromwell.

All of which had calamitous consequences when potato blight ripped through the country in the 1840s and early 50s.

With The Great Famine causing the death of a million people and the flight of another million.

The Crisp Schism

The importance of the potato in the Irish diet persists to this day.

In Irish stew and the Ulster favourite Champ.

And the potato chip, or crisp, with the Irish even claiming to have invented the Cheese & Onion variety.

Of course, this being Ireland, there just had to be a schism.

And that led to there being two different Taytos on the island.

The first of which, the Southern version, was set up by Joe ‘Spud’ Murphy, 70 years ago this year.

Castle made: The Northern Tayto base

While two years later he gave permission to the Thomas Hutchinson family for the creation of Tayto (Northern Ireland).

Now the million dollar question, or actually million euro in the south and million pound in the north is what’s the difference.

Well, the southern original is sold in red, white and blue packets.

And the northern version in yellow and red.

And is oft called Free Staytos by the northerners, in reference to the old name of the Republic, the Irish Free State.

While the southerners refer to the northern version as Protestant Taytos.

Oasis v Boris Johnson

Crisp roll with it: Liam’s favourite

Now it all depends on who you ask and Liam Gallagher stands in the Southern camp.

Pitted against Rory McIlroy, Liam Neeson, Snow Patrol and, er, Boris Johnson.

So which is better?

And a packet of Northern Taytos: Boris Johnson

Well, it is suggested that the northern Taytos flavour may be toned down but then that is a southern view.

As well as, of course, comparing for yourself and you can buy both in my Dear Old Mum’s homestead of Co. Donegal.

Variations on a theme

Going viral: TayTayto

Then you can pay homage to your favourite Tayto in Ashbourne, Co. Meath.

And since 2010 it boasts its own theme park, now called Emerald Park.

With Ireland’s only wooden rollercoaster, in tribute to the legendary Cú Chulainn Coaster.

As well as an exotic zoo and a Native American village, and why not?

While northerners can visit their Mr Tayto’s home at his Tandragee Castle, Co. Armagh, though no theme park here.

Both the Mr Taytos wear boater hats and red jackets.

Although the Southern Tayto dons a black boater and yellow trousers.

Battle of the Bulge: Our pal

And the Nordie a red and white hat and red troos.

Of course, this being the island of Ireland they say there is always an Irish solution to an Irish problem.

And while Donegal is on to something by offering, in places, both versions.

Ireland’s Call

Bestlife: Westlife and Tayto

So let’s hear less of the divisive language and the Tayto surrender or you’ll fry.

And let’s follow the lead of one of Derry’s favourite son Phil Coulter, he of The Town I Loved So Well.

With a cry of unity and respect for each other’s tradition and like on the rugby field answer Ireland’s Call.

Countries, Ireland

She ain’t heavy she’s my mother

So on we go, her welfare is of my concern.
No burden is she to bear, we’ll get there… but then she ain’t heavy she’s my mother.

Ours is a well-trodden path, Mum and I, and we have been lifelong travelling companions.

But today we set out on our last journey, to Teasy’s homestead of Brockagh, Co. Donegal, in the north-west of Ireland.

Precious cargo: On board

Our drive to the airport, this time from North Berwick to Edinburgh, is quieter than usual.

Although I can hear in my mind’s ear her still trying to distract me by pointing out every landmark along the way.

The Adventures of Teasy and her baby

Bandanafan: With Sadie and Teasy

I smile too at the memory of her reaching into the glove compartment on another occasion, for a travel sweet.

And pulling out a joke plastic turd which the kids had left, and almost jumping out of her seat.

We have been travelling this road all my life, either as a family.

Or on those privileged Easter trips, when being the youngest and unencumbered by schoolwork, it was just the two of us.

Sorry for your Troubles

Family time: Ed, Sadie Laurie and dynamic duo

It was always an adventure.

And not without an element of danger.

Such as when we got lost in Belfast in the height of The Troubles.

And Teasy stopped to ask for directions, even inviting the randomer into the car to show us the way.

You can take the girl out of Donegal, and for 70 years my Dear Old Dad did, but you can’t take Donegal out of the girl.

Or when we found ourselves on the Scottish Isle of Arran rather than Ireland because of a communications breakdown at the ferry port.

In the driving seat

Lady McNulty: Of Brockagh

Today I am in charge as I was over the 13 years I spent in Greystones, Co. Wicklow, near Dublin.

And I would drive her up to (or down to as she would insist despite it being north) Donegal on her annual pilgrimage.

Although, of course, I never was truly in charge, and it was double trouble when her sister Ronnie came with us.

And Teasy started giving out exhorting Ronnie to get me to stop.

Because she thought I had taken a wrong turn and was ‘now in Bandit Country.’

The parting glass

Sláinte: Cocktail hour for Teasy

She is still, of course, causing mischief and it is no surprise to see my backpack siphoned off for checking at Edinburgh Airport.

Or that the security staff highlight that this is no ordinary passenger… ‘she’s very bright’ he opines.

‘That’ll be all the alcohol in her’, I reason.

It could, of course, have been worse, and I half expected to be asked to divide her into 100 little plastic bags and go through again.

The Pearly Gates

Hello Darlin’ Dad’s waiting

But we are on our way, after 70 years Teasy is going home for good.

It’ll be an adventure and already our gate for our EasyJet flight has changed twice in the last ten minutes.

You hope they haven’t got any old airport staff reemployed at the Pearly Gates.

Not my worry yet, I have to get a Daughter of Donegal home, safe and sound.

But be sure that I’ll eek every minute out of our last journey together.

Because the load doesn’t weigh me down at all. She ain’t heavy, she’s my mother.

 

 

America, Countries, Ireland, UK

John Bull’s Other Island and the Irish Teasock

They’re just not playing ball… John Bull’s Other Island and the Irish Teasock.

How else to explain Irish ‘prime minister’ Simon Harris not being swept up in England’s march to Euro soccer glory?

Eminent Sky TV political interviewer Trevor Phillips dropped the ball (yes, it’s all footballspeak at the moment).

When he tried to chivy Ireland’s leader along in his discussion about the new British government.

By asking him what he thought of England’s progress in the Euros.

Taoiseach’s low block

Poll position: Taoiseach Simon Harris

Of course my old neighbour from my time in Greystones, Co. Wicklow, let Trev’s volley bounce back at him off his wall.

Now politicians and politicos trying to ingratiate themselves with sporting fans rarely works well,

Who can forget Rishi Sunak asking the Welsh public if they were excited about the Euros?

A Euros where Wales would not be playing but fierce rivals England were.

Political football own goals

Telling porkies: Liz Truss

God love them, they try.

But unfortunately our politicians still don’t see that the world no longer wants the sun never to set on their empire.

Or that they ever did.

To be fair, some Brits do take a stab at learning the lingo.

To try to blag that they know, and care, about what Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw called John Bull’s Other Island.

Like former British prime minister Liz Truss’s mangled attempt at pronouncing Taoiseach, the Irish name for their leader?

To be fair, it’s not Lettuce Liz’s fault that she’s not of the diaspora.

A Brit of Oirish

Our bodies are a temple: Temple Bar

You can, of course, tell the true Brits in any airport heading to Ireland by their stag and hen Oirish merch.

And thankfully avoid them too by steering clear of their meeting place, the overpriced Temple Bar on the banks of the River Liffey.

Which, of course, I’m doing as I board my Ryanair red eye and head over for a catch-up with travel friends at the Shelbourne Hotel on Stephen’s Green.

It’s certainly one way to block out the hysteria greeting England’s arrival in the Euros final by our neighbours.

Biden his time in Ireland

Say it ain’t so Joe: Biden and Trump

Our talk with our American guests in the Shelbourne at the annual US Soiree in Dublin will doubtless be about their elections.

And being the wide-eyed liberals we will. Of course, be wildly sympathetic to Joe Biden’s travails.

And not mention his loose pass when he visited his ancestral home a couple of years ago.

Some like it Scot: With Marilyn in LA

And mistook the New Zealand All Blacks for the hated British regiment from the Irish War of Independence, the Black and Tans.

Of course, the Irish have such a love-in with America that they instantly forgave him.

Particularly as he was playing hard ball with Britain over a trade deal at the time.

And knowing that whatever his frailties he would always know about John Bull’s Other Island and the Irish Teasock.