An Englishman, an Australian, and an American walk into an Irish pub in New Zealand...
It was late by the time we'd flown from Christchurch up to Auckland and after checking in at the Airedale Hotel an excursion to a friendly watering-hole was in order. Our first attempt was with a place called the London Pub, which turned out to be unfriendly to the point of being in serious danger of losing custom. It was clearly some sort of local talent night because there was a local talent wailing with a guitar and a small group of solemn and dour individuals with pints nodding like marionettes to the strumming. Oh, and more important - there was no-one at the bar. Not on person. Zero. After 5 minutes without even so much as a nod from the zombies, we decided to move on.
God was clearly on our side because situated adjacent to the pub was Father Ted's Bar, a much friendlier place that actually wanted to serve us with drinks AND was half way through a quiz night. Needless to say, after a few pints we were dominating the quiz - except that we hadn't actually signed up so our answers counted for NOTHING! Still, the beer and Jack Daniels chasers certainly helped work up an appetite, and in high-living style, we stopped off at a local fine-dining establishment, Kebabs on Queens, for a late night snack.
Sleep was easy.