Nun Guts—No, That's Not a Typo


sodom and begorra, more like. i LOVE THE IRISH.
Ah, Listowel! Drank a few pints in John B. Keane's pub there back in '01 after doing a performance of Mamet's "Speed-The-Plow" at the local converted-church/theatre. Mrs. Keane took us under her wing and, even though it was after serving time, fixed the cast a huge tray of chicken salad sandwiches, proclaiming, "we mustn't let the poor actors starve now, mustn't we!" We stayed well past-time (11:00 back then), as did most of the other patrons - Mrs. Keane just drew the window curtains and switched off the outside lights - which, we very quickly discovered was an almost universal practice: you could stay in as long as you pleased after time was called, but once you left, you were out for the night.

Irish hospitality, that is...