Finalmente! After three long years of tireless research to over 15 countries, Publican Enemy heads to the purist’s home of all modern civilisation; bastion of taste, style, and puffy jackets, Bella Italia! (*the country not the restaurant ). And not just anywhere in Italy, oh no! Due to familial connections and an offer I couldn’t refuse, this time we travel to The Being-Booted by the Rest of the country Mediterranean Island Paradise of Sicily. Closer to North Africa than to Rome, Sicily offers a huge contrast to my last tour of duty; whereas Cologne had Irish boozeries coming out of its dick, 13 Irish pubs no less, Italians allegedly booze far less comparably than any other European nation, so Irish pubs are as thin on the ground as a piece of tagliatelle that’s been trampled underfoot by a herd of Pavarottis. What is the reason for their alcohol problem? Why do they refuse to get flootered every weekend? Can a pub survive in such a foreboding environment? And are the Italians really as beer adverse as they told us at school to shame us into sobriety. As for pubs in the capital of Palermo, we only have but two / three options, more of which anon.

On a historical tip, Sicily and Palermo have been repeatedly fondled by the wandering hands of History, and much like Malta there are loads of cultural deposits that make up the island’s culture: the architecture and foods have a wealth of Arabic influences, the Norman’s brought loads of bbq meats and blonde people while more recently the Scottish brought Super Tennant’s, the tramp fuelling 9% piss beer that is bizarrely popular here .

Time is limited, so I canvass the locals for the inside scoop on the pub scene. Alas, the first option “Pupo Drink “, which comes up in a Google search is not an actual Irish pub, it merely has a sticker of a leprechaun on the door. Scusa, Pupo Drink!!! A second pub, “Jayson Pub” is described on TripAdvisor as “loud / too loud/ very loud / extremely loud/ deafening” and “quite loud” by a friend. If the local boisterous Palermitano find it too loud, it must be louder than being on a bus directly in front of a group of Spanish exchange students on a school tour who are simultaneously all calling their granny who is hard of hearing… so I’ll leave it. Options are running scarce… Is this going to be the only wash out in Publican Enemy history?? Obviously not, as I have written an article about it. But it is risky, yeah?
“There is one other pub… I don’t know if its Irish… it says it’s Irish but I’m not sure it’s ….Authentic.“ says Luca, a friend who resembles an Italian Dylan Moran.
He then asks me a question that in all my years of travelling I had never been asked but secretly longed for.
“What makes an Irish pub anyway?”
Boooom!!! Finally, the essential conundrum of my life’s work is broached… I mull over his existential query, after a moments reflection, the completely arbitrary list I come to is as follows (*feel free to argue and amend amongst yourselves):
They have to have decent music, live or otherwise. (Not too loud ).
Some sort of Irish-related shite on the walls
Good range o’ beers , on tap 
Friendly and/ or competent bar staff. 
Have an item on the menu called “Irish Burger” Classic . 

(The more keen eyed among you will notice that the great George Orwell also created a list of the perfect pub characteristics .Note how my list differs from that of Orwell, and agree that mine is clearly superior, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moon_Under_Water), not the first time my work has been appraised above Orwells’, but it’s not for me to say who is the finer writer. Wetherspoons named a load of shitty boozers after Orwell’s so it’s clear who you can trust….)
In Italia, authenticity is king, it’s something they lionise to the high heavens. If you don’t believe me, ask an Italian what they think of Spaghetti Bolognese* (spoiler alert- it doesn’t exist, it’s made up, they don’t eat it. Yeah, that’s right. And Dolmio is actually made in the Netherlands!) Or try explaining that you once ordered wine from the tap in Wetherspoons, and then duck for cover. So it is upon me to be judge, jury and executioner of Irish Pub Authenticity. I will strive for Authenticity. Call me the arbitrator of Authenticity. Avanti!!

The pub I decide to go to is presumably the world’s only Lord of the Rings themed Irish pub and Coffee House, MINAS TIRITH!
You might be trying to place where in Tipperary Minas Tirith is; maybe you drove through it before it was by-passed… but alas the city of Minas Tirith itself is located primarily in the mindtank of Oxford polyglot JRR Tolkien and his three book epic/ long drawn out wizardy yarn. If you’ve seen the films, Minas Tirith is a brilliant white walled city, a citadel of knowledge and defender of all Humanity, a kind of reverse Bray if you will. And alas, it’s the only show in town.

While we’re here, a quick but necessary detour, let’s talk about two things essential to life and enjoyed in contrasting proportions by Irish & Italians: Food N’ Booze .
The Italians have a totally different relationship with alcohol to us Irish, something we mirror in our total opposite relationship with food. In Italy, you have a variety of food statues & felonious combinations (no dairy and fish/ pizza and fruit, etc). The best restaurants are highly sought after the same way we would judge a bar on its Guinness (in a parallel universe, there is an Italian writing a blog about all the shitty fake Italian restaurants worldwide- yes, I’m talking about you Little Italy Leicester Square). In Ireland of course, eating is cheating as it interferes with the noble quest of self discovery of seeing how hammered you can get in a 2 &1/2 hour period. Eating however is only permitted at 3am provided it is half eaten, half dribbled down the front of your new shirt and a bit on the buckle of your shoes. To demonstrate this clash of civilisations, look at the tradition of the Aperitivo. 
Aperitivo is the Italian tradition of giving you free food in return for ordering a drink. Yes, they give you free food as a thank you for your custom and your drinks purchase. Economists report that were Irish pubs to do likewise, nationwide food shortages would be pandemic within a good 15 mins. In Ireland, if you’re feeling sophisticated, you might open a bag of Taytos spread agape for a touch of continental class. Drinking on an empty stomach just ain’t done here and with the range of food why would you. I show my cultural sensitivity by devouring absolutely every Sicilian speciality I can, repeatedly. See this handy infographic for more!

Amidst all this, one of my favourite contrasts about Italy, in stark juxtaposition to the amazing food, is the bizarre fact Tennant’s Super occupies a prominent position in the beer market, being advertised everywhere as the beer de jour and can even be enjoyed as a sophisticated beach tipple… if you’ve never tried Tennant’s super, it’s like a smooth blend of a lager, lighter fluid, and the peculiar musk of a vagrants armpit. Packs a kick alright.

Back to the pub. My trusty Samwise Gamgee, local girl Chiara Gristina, leads me to the pub, though she does not know the way. Before long, in front of us stands the might of MINAS TIRITH. We slowly push open the imposing double doors and make our way into the bowels of the majestic citadel…

One does not simply walk into MINAS TIRITH on a 9 o’clock on Wednesday in Palermo. It is as empty as the mines of Morir and as lively as… that swamp in the second lord of the Rings film where everyone was dead. I wonder if it is to do with the time, but remember, an Irish pub reviewer is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. So, what’s this place saying ? Here’s a short video excerpt…clicky clicky
Minas Tirith looks like a proper Irish pub, it has loads of taps, flags, and ‘Oirish’ paraphernalia. The beer menu is extensive, about 12 pages long, including 3 pages of local Irish craft beers that I’ve never seen. I decide to go for an Italian stout; its fresh, bit fizzy, loses its head quickly but fair play for trying. Minas Tirith has a huge map of Middle Earth above the bar which looks kind of cool but is the only reference to Lotr in the place. Music blasting out (not too loud) is Pogue-sesque, although in Italian (there is a thriving sub genre here of Italian based folk punk bands in the mould of the Pogues, quite lovingly mimicked .click here for a listen …) 
Alas, Palermo isn’t really an indoor drinking town, with most boozing talking place in open piazzas and narrow streets where hundreds of youths gather in the early summer crepuscular twilight. After about an hour a couple of other couples wander in and sit down, and the bar staff, who outnumber clientele by about 2:1 start an impromptu darts competition amongst themselves, (fly, you fools!), such is the throng of punters. A day may come when customers flock to Minas Tirith, but it is not This day. Ultimately, I suppose Minas Tirith is a bit Irish, it ticks all the boxes, looks the part and even has an Irish burger on the menu. It’s actually not too bad, but when an Irish pub lies empty it’s hard to judge. Maybe an Irish pub needs to have people in it – the last missing criteria, the elusive “craic”.

I choose to spend My Precious time elsewhere so we leave Minas Tirith and make for the gap of Vucciria, the outdoor drinking area. Although it’s a Wednesday, the place is black with people till 3am and the Sicilians are putting away Tennant’s Super better than any rural Irish town over the weekend could. A friend of mine suggests a sneaky pizza; entering the takeaway, she gleefully recommends the house special: pizza with a load of chips on top of it. I ask if this is legal, and I’m assured it is (keep it secret). So as for our search for Tradition & Authenticity, what have we thus far encountered: an Irish Burger, Italian Guinness, a lord of the rings themed bar, Pizza with chips on it, a few Super Tennant’s, Italian Irish folk music and Italians drinking Monday till Sunday for about 8 hours.

That’s Sicily so. Really great craic, despite the relative shortage of Irish pubs. As for Minas Tirith – YOU SHALL NOT PASS without sampling their lovely craft beer menu. Irish pubs really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after 3 years they can still surprise you.

P.S. A big thanks to Chiara and Betty & Famiglia for their general magnificance. And to all the other amici of the Fellowship who joined us, be they Irish , Portuguese or English

P.S. If at a loose end and wondering how to spend a hungover couple of hours in Sicily, why not go to the Cappucini’s Catacombs, where they have thousands of mummified corpses in various states of decay- the perfect way to fill your day with feelings of dread and a heightened sense of your own mortality! Gas!

P.S. Don’t want to end on a morbid note so here are a load of sculpted arses: