So I'm spending a night down in Mystic with my first wife for our ten year anniversary. We stop by "an authentic Irish pub" for a beer before dinner, where we are greeted not my a sweet Irish lass, not by Shamus McGuinnes, not by good Saint Patrick himself, but by a surly Russian beer wench. She begrudgingly took our beer order after rattling off the beers on tap in a thick Rusky accent. We asked if there were an appetizer menu, to which she replied "No appetizers; we serve corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash", except that it sounded more like "vee serv cahrn beev und hash, und bangerz und mash", all in a very surly thick accent. She angrilly slammed our beers down and demanded $9, and then goose stepped away.
We drank our beers, left a tenner, and ran away.
NOTE TO ALL PUB OWNERS: I don't care if your bar is knee deep in leprachauns, shallayleighs, and four leaf clovers, your pub ain't Irish if you've got an angry Russian chick tending bar.