We started the holiday on a high note... Aimee being outcasted as a Hobo at Heathrow airport. From then on we made her drink her Magners from a brown paper bag.
Kinlay House. These feckers had NO idea what they were in for.
Robs hadn't even started drinking...
50 Euros later and we had rid the town of all things green (we blended like all good tourists do)
We tried one arty shot. We failed. Come on Corey, pub time.
Cork. A scenic city......
..... until we took over.
They sure know how to party on their national day. (Where the fuck were the leprechauns and green streamers and dancing pints of Guinness!?!?)
The one highlight... "What's that coming over the hill...?"
"IS THAT A MONSTER?? IS THAT A MOOOONSTEEEER?!"
At this point we were content and headed for the Old Oak..
She came, she saw, she..... sipped Corey's Guinness and ran like hell
Hello Ireland!
Goodbye dignity!
Truly a day for all Irish (esp the kid knecking Dad's beer)
Never, EVER, let Aimee buy novelty hats.
The "Kiss Me I'm Irish" tattoos were finally working
I blame Rage Against The Machine
I can't blame anyone for this
Someone let us into the Savoy. WHY??
Somehow we found it appropriate to pay for 60 Euros worth of breakfast entirely with shrapnel.
Whopping hangover, 4 hours sleep and cinemas do not mix.
There is only room for one Vic in this world, and Cork, it's not yours!!
12 hours on the run and snow meant we were stranded at Cork Airport for two more. Happy holidays everyone!!
