Before the trip started, we thought it probable that with time constraints and the need to find a pub quickly, that we might find ourselves in some rather poor establishments. You know, the silent stares from the locals, dodgy Guinness and no music. Little did we realise that we would stumble across the worst pub EVER. In hindsight, we should have been prepared for the worst on seeing the pub's name sign printed in a badly-centered, generic Microsoft Word font.

Inside it looked like Del Boy's flat and there were just four people - an old git at the bar drinking stout, a teenage girl in a gaelic football tracksuit, a middle-aged man with coke-bottle glasses and an 80 year old woman with white hair. The middle-aged man and elderly woman were at a table scribbling on blue sheets - probably the local parish lotto. 'It must be quiz night', quipped Hon. As usual Brian ordered a Heineken and the barmaid promptly reached for an ice cold bottle from the... shelf. Honestly - there was no fridge. From this point on, we just couldn't stop laughing with Brian trying to stomach his hot Heineken and Hon asking politely for another 'warm one'. Boris tried to drink his warm Red Bull, but most of it ended up coming out of his nose.

It was the most surreal situation with the five of us on one side of the bar wetting ourselves laughing and the other clientele sitting in complete silence. Unbelievablely terrible and yet, probably the most fun we had all weekend.