CALL me uncouth but I like O'Neills. Sure it's a little rough sometimes but at least it doesn't try to hide it.

There's something comforting about the Irish bar. Chances are, a fight's going to break out mid-way through your drinking session, yet you somehow feel safe and secure sipping your shamrock-topped Guinness.

To drink in O'Neills is to return to all those watering holes you went to as a spotty youth, when socialising meant getting plastered enough to approach a member of the opposite sex and the highlight of your week was a grope in Destiny Nightclub.

Not just a breeding ground for beer-fuelled aggression, O'Neills is a place of love, or its alcoholic equivalent. The music room allows you to strut your stuff on the dance floor and impress the indiscerning totty.

Some of the best conversations I've ever eavesdropped on have been here, in the confines of the ladies' loos. It's the sort of place where you can bond over the cubicles (but apparently not between the urinals).

And it's not just the beer that's a real confidence booster the powder room also get a thumbs up for a flattering three-quarter length mirror.

O'Neills is a contradictory kind of place, a pub where real people go to drink in imitation-Irish surroundings. You'll probably hate it, but you will return.

JD