Tell me why I don't like Dublin

In the back of our minds, if it wasn’t too much trouble and if it wasn’t going to lead to bloodshed or crippling cost implications, most of us would like to see a united Ireland.
We’d like to imagine a time when the 32 counties are reunited and the island is a country once more. Well for me, I’d prefer 31 counties. Get rid of Dublin.
Memories of Dublin in my childhood revolve around trips to the zoo and long journeys on rickety trains with a bunch of other over-sugared, feral kids.
However, every time I have returned there as an adult I have hated the place, detested it on a level only usually overheard in conversations in Cork bars.
It is not enough for me to hate Dublin the place though. Because frankly I hate Dubs too. Now hating Dubs is a national pastime for the other 25 counties of the Republic, but trust me, the vitriol I hold for the citizens of the capital is bordering on the criminal.
Now genocide is an atrocious, horrendous side of humanity that we would all like to pretend doesn’t exist. But if anyone suggested killing off Dubs, I’d recommend doing it alphabetically, starting with the Anto’s.
What is it about the Dubs that I hate? First and foremost is their arrogance. The notion that anyone outside The Pale is still living in the land of thatched cottages, water from a bucket and candlelight.
Then there is the notion that everything good in Ireland should naturally migrate to Dublin, because it is somehow a happening place to be.
In reality Dublin is a sprawling metropolis, hard to get around, which requires a top-hat and tails to get into most of the night spots and the credit rating of a small oil-producing Middle East country to buy a drink.
The bars are over-priced, over-hyped and over-full… and you know what, the same can be said for the entire city.
Then there are the accents. Dublin must be the only city where the common accent and the posh accent grate equally. Whether you’re listening to a ‘scanger’ tell you his life story on the Luas or overhearing some D4 suit waffle into his Bluetooth penis extension in a bar at lunchtime, you just want to tell them both to shut the hell up.
And worst, by far worst of all. You have to go to Dublin if you have any interest in live music. And as you pay for your ticket from a tout with a ‘scanger’ accent (who bought it off some D4 suit working for MCD no doubt), you realise that the rest of the country is funding Dublin. If we just cried ‘enough is enough’ what would happen? Dublin, a Capital pain in the ass!