The Quay’s Bar (Northgate Inn), Northgate St, Athlone, Ireland.

"Tell that fellow to get out," demanded the Neanderthal type barmaid as she rushed towards me

Another Irish dive where the moronism will stun you.

The Quay’s Bar in the heart of Athlone is a dive that exudes Pict-Irishness like pig’s shit oozes foulness. And the moronic bastard who owns and manages this reptile-pit has about as much social nous as a wild boar.

Typically for such inbreds he chooses his staff after his own heart; it wouldn’t be unusual in this Oirish pub to see a dribbling-at-the-mouth imbecile serving food to a besuited local gombeen professional.

Ulster Bank, 19 Mardyke Street, Athlone, Ireland

She looked atrocious, built like a male prize-fighter, a viciously ugly bitch

You have to be a snarling imbecile to

work here.

I’ve been in this branch of Ulster Bank about 7- or 8-times over ten years and on every occasion I’ve been confronted by ignoramuses.

They cretins and buffoons that seem to make up most of the staff1 here didn’t take the normal evolutionary trajectory, i.e. their coarseness and aggression got progressively worse as time went on rather than improve.

My first encounter was with what I can only call a hermaphrodite; to figure if this biped life-form was male or female was impossible. To err on the side of caution you’d be inclined to guess female but I’ve no doubt she’d also be packing a pair of testicles.

She looked atrocious; built like a male prize-fighter, a viciously ugly bitch with a fine moustache and patches of black stubble around her chin. And her manners and temperament matched; she certainly wasn’t designed to imbue anyone with an appreciation of a creator’s capabilities.