I think I take a perverse pride in leading people to the Dun-A-Ri
I think I take a perverse pride in leading people to the Dun-A-Ri, aka The Irish Bar. Its actual Irishness is limited almost wholly by its name. The clientele, drinks and everything else about screams Saturday night on Lewisham High Street (thank you Matt DC). It is out of place in Kings Cross, not rough enough to be a proper dive, but certainly not fashionable enough to be a destination. Hence for late doors drinking you can always get in and they are usually pleased to see you.
Last night they had a DJ on spinning some rather good pop. He looked like a genetic blend of Chris Moyles and Daniel Bedingfield as we led some Americans astray via the medium of alcopops. The bright blue pear and grape Reef seemed particularly popular. A fun time was had until we were finally kicked out at quarter past two. Except for the curmudgeonly bouncer who was wary of the mad skills displayed by one of our breakdancing visitors. And more wary of the kack handed breakdancing of the one genuine Irishman present. But being told you can’t dance at a disco still rankles.
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