The Shelbourne, where we place down our guards and smile and laugh – where Dungarvan oysters with lavishly bespoke wings imagined upon get to be the only steam that we see – this high-octane owner carries with him a few too many bewildering tricks up his silkened sleeve
Been meaning to meet at the ultimate halfway, top dollar procedure, perhaps, yet you get exactly what you put in
A hundred-and-one fastidious dins swarm about this oak-embellished place, where each and every rampant story comes right from the immediate heart of this insatiable city, permits the re-telling time again of its glorious existence
Willingly unravelled, the circularly jovial and all too excitable doorman will happily divulge his own life story in a most welcoming manner, far smarter than we ever give him credit for – delightfully fashioned and aligned from inner-city perfection
To unwind and relax, unmatchedly so, prone to letting it all fall by the wayside
Slip-slide, you awkward sonuvabitch, you
Few who would truly begrudge us this particularly deserved experience, literally served up on a diamond-encrusted platter
These smiles may be seriously fleeting but the memories shall develop and rewind ’til magnificently repeated on up inside of the soliloquy mind a million times over, blindingly astute and devotedly refurbished brick by intricately set brick to add to the overall bravado – leaving our imaginations none too narrow
When our shoulders can be seen to bounce atop their boisterous frames ’til the quick-fire laughter tames an otherwise mundane existence
Everyday monstrosities relinquished in the blink of an altogether watered then softened eye – to curiously pry via our behemoth widescreen windows would be to deprive yourself almost entirely

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