Vast, dark and quite often empty Dublin tends to fill up if there’s a big night in the Belfast Club next door, but otherwise tends to stand cobweb still. Counting against it is its sheer size, meaning even if there’s a fair crowd gathered you’ll need to jack up the hearing aid to do any eavesdropping. That’s not to say it’s not a good night; this is after all one of few places selling Guinness. But the Irishness stops with the black stuff – everything else feels stubbornly Polish, from the turbo folk dance sounds to the local kiełbasa.