”It means nothing to me ..ohhhhhhhh Valletta”

1. Voyage number 2 , the year of our Lord 2018. My Quest to visit every Irish pub on God’s earth takes me to the English-speaking , Italian-looking , Arabic -sounding , rabbit -consuming island haven of Malta. Over the centuries ,  everyone has had an aul’ go in Malta ; the Phoenicians, the Knights of Saint John, the Turks, the Arabs ,the French, the Italians ,the British, the Klingons ,the Kardashians , the Nolans, the Ramones ,the Coneheads and now, seamlessly the Irish , albeit via stealth. A potent mix.

Now, many people ( my mum) ask me how I choose the bars to be visited in each particular country. Quintessenially, it is a year round organic, holistic process begun several years in advance, involving meticulous planning & networking. Also involved are a chain of influencers, a team of writers, researchers and social anthropologists constantly conducting elaborate rounds of focus groups and/ or social media data extraction, till the best pubs remain . Haters will say I just Google “Irish pub ” and go to the first one that comes up, but that is not true. And there are plenty to choose from here; sometimes, it’s a bit of a stretch to find a decent one, but Malta, despite its diminutive size, has hundreds of the buggers (in no particular order) ;  Casey’s bar ,        O’ Reillys ,Cork’s ,Ryan’s, Fat Harry’s, Murphys ,Fat Harry’s Luqa ( the spin off ) , The Grapevine , Dubliners and not to be omitted ,without fail- ” Irish pub.” 

Malta also got history . This little island is the place where St Paul the apostle was shipwrecked and buried, but also the old capital Mdina is where Nedd Stark was beheaded in Game o’ Thrones Series 1 ! Spoiler Alert ! Imagine- such history in one place  : the site of the martyrdom of a great man , who sacrificed himself for the greater good as told in one of the greatest books ever written, and some lad from the bible as well .

Although they speak English and Italian , they also have their own language . Maltese  looks like it was created for a seventies space opera where they threw together a load of z’s, x’s ,q’s and j’s and must make scrabble games some next-level shit . Por example, the list of bus stops on one particular route sounds like the role call of some intergalactic council meeting :
Quighed Hawn
Quali 3
Warda
Alwigi
Flecqnoc
Qrogg 5
Suq
* Fun fact : one of those is totally made up . Guess which one !!!

Much like Ireland , they kept their incomprehensible tongue in addition to English, while  mostly the older generation spoke Italian. ” In 1942, when they started bombing us , we fell out of love with Italian” a local guy called James tells me. . Although , in the early years of the war, the Italians were reluctant to strike their cousins ( perhaps they didnt want to make the Maltese cross) so they dropped their bombs in an arbitrary and disinterested fashion, like a waiter from  the Jaime’s Italian  restaurant franchise sprinkling parmesan
on some penne pesto chicken dish. Then the Germans came and bombed the bejaysus out of them . Efficiently too, as is their modus operandi .

Malta became one of the most bombed places during the war. But the whole country then got a medal , and they stuck it on the flag, thus making it all better. And with the British influence came normal plug sockets, red phone boxes, Cornish pasties and plenty of battle cruisers ( Boozers).  Valletta, the capital , was founded by Grandmaster of the Knights Jean Parisot de la Valette after surviving the great siege against the Ottoman Turks . Now this grandmaster was flash, constructing the first planned city in the world , a feat that began in majesty here in Malta but culminated in the likes of Milton Keynes. May the lord forgive us . Renzo Piano designed the beautiful gates of the city and the town hall , keeping it in tune with the local style , and it’s a Unesco World Heritage site . Despite having no Irish pubs. Impressive.

The order of St John of Malta ran the show here for centuries, and as a result
Malta is more Catholic than the Pope’s little Popey-pope socks . In Ireland , the ruling Catholic order were the equally warlike but ultimately less altruistic Christian Brothers and they never built anything this fancy ….The Knights Order (or the Supremus Ordo Militaris Hospitalis Sancti Ioannis Hierosolymitani Rhodius et Melitensis for short )  still exist to this day , safely guarding the Holy Grail till Harrison Ford turns up . Of course not ! The modern day Knights are your regular, average joes, why there’s current Grandmaster Giacomo dalla Torre del Tempio di Sanguinetto, or Commander Ludwig Hoffman van Rumerstein, or Grand hospitalier Domenique De La Rochefocould-Montel . Imagine a pub crawl with them lads !!!  They sound like Jacob Rees Moog’s foreign boarding- school  buddies .You can see signs of the knights all over the place, and of Malta’s Catholicism too

2. Not one to stick too close to type , The first pub I go to is not even an Irish one,(I know!) , but it’s definitely worth a look. “The Pub” , to give it’s full illustrious title, is like most other ”Propah” British hole- in- the- wall dives around here , but it’s notoriety stems from it being the location where pugnacious boozesmith Oliver Reed had his final session, drinking himself to death while taking part in a contest with some British sailors in between filming Gladiator. According to the tabloid article proudly by the door , his modest final round included “8 pints of lager (with the wife)  , 12 double rums and half a bottle of whiskey ”  His bill was famously left unpaid and stuck up on the wall for all to marvel at. Actually dying is a neat trick to escape a hefty bill I mused , alas it is only useable the once .

As I sit outside the pub , I hear a gaggle of young Maltese bucks making loads of noise, smoking away like troopers. Listening in , I can see how Arabic their language sounds…..but on closer inspection, its  actually Turkish .

” Hey man , are you English ? “  asks one of the group

“ No , I’m Irish.”

“yes, yes, Ireland , robbie keane , robbie keane ! Do you know any Turkish players ? ”

”Hakan Sukur, but he’s a terrorist, right ?”

They howl in laughter. That one could have gone either way in retrospect.
We begin to list all the Turkish players I know , then Turkish teams, then favourite kebabs , drinking away as we go …

Some 4 hours later we are discussing , in detail , the tactical movements of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk during the Gallipoli campaign in WWI  1916 , using disgarded fag boxes to replicate his gun positioning which repelled the Anzacs and how the Islamification of Turkey is counter to his legacy ” We are all soldiers” says the chief/ chef. “Turkish army ..our battle cruiser is stationed here” ..and to prove it he shouts at one (who looks like a young Roy Keane incidentally) in Turkish who stands to attention, stubs out his freshly lit cigarette and offers his chair to the youngest. Drinks continue and it’s getting a bit messy ” You look like Viking,” shouts one , getting slightly carried away . ” No you look like brother of  Kivnac Tatlitug“ ahahahhaahahha

“Whiskey is irish drink? would you like drink whiskey with us , drink to Kemal Attaturk?… We can also drink to Irish heroes ! Who is Irish hero?” 
‘Micheal D ? ” I say

‘Ok, to Micheal D !”

And they all put away their Jamesons in one …its at this point that my eyes catch the watching furrowed brow of Oliver Reed, above the fag machine. “ Don’t do it Colm, ” he seems to be saying.” your life’s work is to visit Irish pubs. Now go, out you devil “!! I make my excuses and get out of there before I’m left with a bill I can’t pay and escape the Turkish siege of Valetta version 2.0. Sound lads though ……

3.  Now , I had a choice to make concerning  Irish pubs in Malta , as they are either clustered in Sliema,  outside Valletta  , or in Bugibba , on the far side of the island . As the former is much closer , I choose that one . Alas , I may have chosen poorly , and the fare is not great. We’ve got Ryan’s, Cork’s and  Dubliner . Ryans isnt even open on Monday thus disqualifying it from any further consideration (excommunicated !) and its sign reads “Yans” which makes it seem like a Czech brasserie. I go back the next day and despite it being open it appears deader than the previous day when it was closed.

Cork’s Irish pub , as described brilliantly on Tripadvisor by Lecturer1961, is: 

” a bit like Cheers ( old American sitcom pub), in that it has locals , but not exclusionary (like American Werewolf in London Pub)

It’s got more going on – sunburnt Brits, underage teen tourists  and various local weirdos: Below is just a snippet of one of the bizarrest barroom conversations I have had the privilege to (over)hear  ;

“I know you won’t believe this , you’re going to just say i’m mental , but im pretty sure I located the  actual site of Atlantis. It’s near China. You don’t believe me? No one believes me…’

I’m disproportionately troubled by the vestigial apostrophe in Cork’s as it leads to more questions than answers. It’s like when people who say Tesco’s instead of Tesco. It is ”Cork’s”-  as in it belongs to the county/ people of Cork? Is the owner named Cork ? Does he then come from Cork himself? If so, shouldn’t it just be Cork -Irish pub ? This needs further investigation . The barman (Serbian) is wearing a t- shirt depicting the pubs of Cork, so maybe he knows?

” I have no idea why there is an apostrophe leave me alone” , his face seems to say , but what he actually says is “I’ve never been to Cork but there’s a guy who comes 3 times a year and brings me a  t-shirt , I give him a free pint . Maybe its named after him “

” And would you like to go to Cork ?” I ask

“I prefer Malta”

“Right on”

4. The next night I go to  the Dubliner, Malta’s premier Irish pub ( they have a website so they must be fancy  ) but it’s not as much craic . It’s a standard pub, they have a menu that includes an ‘Irish burger ” , they have old books on the shelves , so far-
all classic . They have live music too – the night before, Malta’s premier dub-folk indie rock crossover band “Reggae O’ Head” were performing . I head to another bar that has a prominent Guinness sign outside …maybe it’s Irish ?

“The Crow’s Nest “ is a proper shithole , with a barman who has a load of scars on his face. I order a pint of Cisk, the local pisswater. The barman magics one from beneath the counter without touching a tap .

” That was quick ! ” I tell him .

“You want it or not pal ?”

In an instant I grab the pint class from his hand , and crash it across his head , sending him flying back across the bar, hurtling into various bottles of spirits and dislodging the wall – mounted pork scratchings individual sachets . “How about YOU want it not ?” I quip and turn and stroll out the bar , the glass cracking beneath my feet.

No I don’t . None of that happens . I just drink the pint as quickly as I can and scamper off.  It wasn’t Irish btw

On the way back , I walk past  Dubliner again . Maybe its worth another shot . As I walk past, I hear a mad banging on the window upstairs . Its two girls shouting randomly. Drunk students I reckon. Seconds later, I feel a message vibrate in my pocket . The girls banging upstairs on the window recognised me ! We  work for the same company back home , in fact I had only met one of them the first time in London 1 week previously . I go back and we have a few of pints far past closing time, joined by Brian , 54, a retired electrician from Limerick, who has randomly joined us for the past two hours and is now our best friend.
” Lads, let me tell ye….ye can’t be making too many plans ..ye have to take yer time and not be rushing yourselves… I’ll take my time visiting here and if i don’t see it all , sure I can always come back …….but I envy ye, all working together in multinational company ..I worked alone all my life , . .cherish it lads “

Brian gets another round for everyone before wandering off to buy a Whopper for himself.  Brian is the real knight of Malta and we are grateful for his wisdom. There’s a fine line between over planning a holiday and getting caught up with what you should be doing etc… I make a mental note to fire all the researchers.  Also, how good a place is depends totally on the company , as I now really like Dubliner, and they give us a lock -in to boot .  I declare fielty to the Order of Brian (who is now regally wearing a Burger King crown) and swear to honor his code henceforth. Thanks Malta, or as they say here ‘jyggvgsgxz zuxyvksj’

• (As it happens,  it turns out Oliver Reed’s body was returned home to his final resting place- Ireland,  and he reposes in Churchtown, Co. Cork, so there is an Irish connection so it’s all fine)
• I also saw the below abomination .Needless to say, the embassy were called and the hate crime was reported
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