D.M Shelly

Just what Portlaoise needed - another pub. D.M Shelly sits there on the main drag like it's doing us all a favor, flaunting its perfectly weathered facade and promising that most dangerous of Irish commodities: authenticity. I'll admit, I approached with my usual skepticism, prepared for yet another soulless attempt at recreating what makes a proper Irish pub tick.

But damn it all if D.M Shelly hasn't managed to do something rather special here. The moment you cross the threshold, you're struck by an atmosphere that feels earned rather than manufactured. The Store Yard's handiwork in fitting out the place shows in every corner, with nooks and crannies that seem to have evolved organically rather than being focus-grouped into existence. It's the kind of setup that makes you think, "Well, I suppose I could stay for one more."

The thing about D.M Shelly that really gets under your skin - in the best possible way - is how it manages to dodge the usual pitfalls of Portlaoise's drinking establishments. No tacky sports memorabilia screaming for attention, no desperate attempts to be "contemporary." Instead, you'll find yourself settled into a corner that feels like it's been waiting for you since the building was first erected.

The live music, when it's on, doesn't assault your eardrums like some sort of sonic warfare. Instead, it actually does what Irish music is supposed to do - create an atmosphere where conversations can still flourish while toes tap unconsciously under tables. It's almost annoying how well they've got this balance right.

Let's talk about the drinks because, let's face it, that's why we're all here. The pint-pulling at D.M Shelly is something of an art form, performed with the kind of careful attention that makes you realize why Guinness tastes better in Ireland. And while I'm generally suspicious of any pub that puts too much emphasis on their wine selection (this is Ireland, not the South of France), they've managed to curate a list that doesn't feel like an afterthought.

The staff, curse them, are actually competent. More than competent - they're genuine. There's none of that forced craic you get in tourist traps, just natural hospitality that makes you feel like a regular even on your first visit. They remember your drink, engage in banter that doesn't feel scripted, and somehow manage to appear exactly when you need them.

Those "nooks and crannies" that everyone keeps banging on about? They're actually worth the hype. Each little alcove feels like your own private snug, perfect for everything from clandestine meetings to hiding from your in-laws. The good-for-groups setup somehow manages to accommodate larger parties without sacrificing the intimate feel that makes this place special.

What's particularly vexing is how D.M Shelly has managed to become a proper local's pub while still being welcoming to visitors. It's a careful balancing act that most establishments botch completely, yet here it feels effortless. You'll find yourself sharing a joke with a farmer who's been drinking here since before you were born, while tourists at the next table feel equally at home.

The restroom situation - often the true measure of any pub's worth - is mercifully well-maintained. It's a small detail, perhaps, but one that speaks volumes about the overall standards maintained here. When even the facilities are this well-kept, you know someone's paying attention to the details.

Look, I didn't want to like D.M Shelly. Portlaoise has enough pubs, and my cynical heart wasn't ready for another one to add to the rotation. But here I am, recommending that you make your way to this establishment that has, against all odds, managed to create something genuine in an age of artifice.

If you're in Portlaoise and looking for a proper pub experience - one that doesn't require you to lower your standards or pretend you're having a good time - D.M Shelly is, irritatingly, exactly where you should be. Just don't all rush there at once. Some of us locals have grown rather fond of our corners.