All in all

Grogans is a great pub for people-watching. Sitting outside last Tuesday, supping one of the finest pints of Guinness ever, Mrs McMuck quaffing Bulmers, all sorts walked by.

Business folk in business suits brushed shoulders with the last of those fucking Celtic Tigers - men and women of a certain age whose daddies' credit cards could still withstand another bruising encounter with the Brown Thomas chip n pin machine.

Then there was one skinny fella. Huge sunglasses with bright white rims. Hair like Buddy Holly. Drainpipe trousers and a shiny jacket. And he walked by twice in case we didn't notice him the first time.

Your Honour, I only kicked the shit out of him because he looked like a complete cunt.

Further drinks were had in the Market Bar (Guinness was still good) and the ultra-chic 'No Name' (Paulaner. Sinking into a couch no less).

As talks began over what to eat and where, the phone rang with the offer of tickets to go see the premier of 'Kick Ass'. Someone knew someone who knew someone who could get us in, so thoughts of food were parked and we went up to Cineworld.

Now to put on my Radge movie reviewer hat.

Let me see... an 11-year-old girl (it's okay, she's 13 in real life) chopping off a leg with a machette, stabbing and shooting bad guys, getting punched around by an evil drug baron, liberal spillages of blood and a ridiculously high kill count.

All in all a cerebral feast that left no room for desert.