My Own Private Ulysses: The Rottenest Roommates in Dublin
“Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep!…Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin.”
– Ulysses, James Joyce
What kind of panting maniac would name a “Joycean Heritage Pub” after these two rat bastards?
Could Stephen have worse roommates than No-Name Haines and Back-Shivving Buck Mulligan? These jagoffs make Rosencrantz and Guildenstern look like Piglet and Eeyore.
And what are the signature cocktails of this pothouse:
The Gay Betrayer? The Ponderous Saxon? The Woful Lunatic?
This pair of pigdogs deserves far, far worse, but a Hemingway Half-Dozen Prose Poem is all our showrunner could gin up in these tricky-dicky times.
It seems history is to blame.
Stay tuned for more malevolent misnomers.
Same mendacious time, same malfeasant channel.