Electric atmosphere

Richard Johnson finds an Irish pub that doesn't serve the black stuff - it could only happen on the internet

Can't dance, too wet to plough, and too windy to haul rocks - might as well drink. It's an old Irish saying. The good people of Ireland are reputed to have an awkward relationship with the hard stuff. Which is why the Virtual Irish Pub (VIP) is such a wonderful idea. You see, there's no actual drink. It's a pub that lives in your computer. But (and I'm reading this from a press release) "the craic is still here!" The barman will pour you a pint of imaginary dark stuff (mercifully, without a shamrock traced into its pillowy head) and ask you to take a seat. Slà inte.

Can't dance, too wet to plough, and too windy to haul rocks - might as well drink. It's an old Irish saying. The good people of Ireland are reputed to have an awkward relationship with the hard stuff. Which is why the Virtual Irish Pub (VIP) is such a wonderful idea. You see, there's no actual drink. It's a pub that lives in your computer. But (and I'm reading this from a press release) "the craic is still here!" The barman will pour you a pint of imaginary dark stuff (mercifully, without a shamrock traced into its pillowy head) and ask you to take a seat. Slà inte.

The fact that I know about the VIP at all is down to the Discovery Channel. In a recent documentary, it insisted there were 43 traces of urine on my local's toilet door. In the name of research, I went to observe gents emerging from the conveniences. I figured that if they had washed their hands before leaving, they would have re-dressed first. But no. They were still tugging at their zips. One of them even went on to pull me a pint and then handle my loose change. Which is why, this week, I have been mostly staying in. And playing on my computer.

So I decided to go in search of "the craic!" I clicked my mouse on the pub door to get in, where I was asked to choose from the main bar, the beer garden and the hot tub. I waited on my own in the hot tub for nearly 10 minutes before opting for the main bar. It's the only Irish bar I've ever been in where people dared to talk politics. Q, from Saipan, and a virtual Icelandic backpacker were discussing power-sharing in Ireland. Their vocabulary was suspect and they weren't bothering with verbs. In this respect, the VIP could pass for any pub come closing time.

Douglas Adams said that a computer isn't "some clunky old television with a typewriter in front of it - it is an interface where the mind and body can connect with the universe and move bits of it about". The VIP wouldn't make such grand claims, but it did manage to force together two young Italians. They spent a fortnight clogging up the entire site with their professions of love, and are thought to be living happily ever after in Milano. And the creators of the VIP insist that there have been at least three other marriages since then.

The VIP is friendly enough. But I don't like bars where everyone knows my name. I find it threatening. Especially if I don't know theirs. I do, however, like the politesse of a good barman. The VIP is currently exploring ways of making the barman more interactive, but I still left the place as thirsty as when I went in. An imaginary pint from an imaginary barman just didn't hit the spot. It was surreal ale - or maybe it was just an expression of my subconscious mind by phenomena of dreams. Who knows. It got me over my urine phobia in a hurry. I licked it.

The Virtual Irish Pub is at www.visunet.ie/vip

You can e-mail Richard Johnson at drinkwithrichardjohnson@yahoo.co.uk