Try Mort Subite. Sudden death? Well, what about a Delirium Tremens? It has a sweetish palate and a rather abrupt finish. Oh, a beer. Well, that's different. For unsuspecting mortals wandering around Dublin's Temple Bar this week, it's as well to remember that a Belgian beer festival is underway.
Watch out for a troupe of young actors disguised as trappist monks who will try to "tell" you a morality play (!) and lure you to your fate at the Porterhouse on the corner of Parliament Street and East Essex Street. Oliver Hughes, owner of the public house, "just wants to awaken people to the idea of Belgian beer", he says innocently. Father Mathew will be turning in his grave. "There are about 1,000 different beers in Belgium," says Hughes, who has imported cratefuls, 42 brands to be precise, for the occasion.
In cahoots with him is Belgian ambassador Baron Alain Guillaume, sitting with a jaunty flower in his lapel, a yellow handkerchief in his top pocket and a twinkle in his eye. Is he a lover of beer also? "No," he says as he sips a Leffe Blond. Baron, you're joking, surely? "I never pull legs, especially when they are pretty legs," says the diplomat.