night out in Dalkey

• A 12-meter long Humvee limo, complete with tacky blue neon underlighting, which one of my barstaff tells me is owned by The Monk; certainly the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that the driver was wearing a tracksuit top, as far as I could see.
• Someone arrived into the bar, and stood behind me telling his companion that whoever they were talking about had "destroyed the Irish Press". As soon as they moved to where I could see them, I recognised the speaker as Vincent Browne, who continued to, well, rant - presumably on the same and related topics; I'd gone back to reading my book but I was still aware of a certain subdued stridency going on next to me. I've no idea who his female companion was but then I've never really been much of a star-spotter.