Perfect pint of Guinness? I say, is it good for one?

FOR a moment, in a parallel universe, it looked like it might be her namesake Elizabeth Dawn, aka Vera Duckworth, sidling up to the bar in a futuristic version of The Rover’s Return on Coronation Street.

She was about to give HRH Jack Duckworth a piece of her mind. After all, his elbow was firmly on the counter and it wasn’t even 11 in the morning yet.

But then Fergal Murray, Guinness master brewer, spoiled the fantasy by going all posh on us, inviting the royal couple to appreciate the true majesty of a Pint of Plain.

“Guinness is first drunk with your eyes,” he told them, in tones you could shave with, as his carefully drawn pint of the Black Stuff began to settle before the royal visitors like a smouldering cauldron.

The Queen and Prince Philip were being shown one of Ireland’s best known exports during a visit to St James’s Gate brewery.

The duke looked like he might settle in for a pint or two, but the Queen was more amazed than amused, showing the first sign of discomfiture during her visit as she beheld this strange object in front of her.

Until now, nothing seemed to faze her. She had no bother landing on an airstrip dedicated to Roger Casement, a man her forebears executed for treason against the Crown; she showed true grit by leaping out of the not-so ceremonial armour plated Range Rover, even though her seat was three feet off the ground — and she displayed both humility and humanity by bowing before a monument to the men of 1916.

But this was different. No matter how you play it, there is nothing regal about a big, fat pint of Guinness winking up at you from arm’s length.

If she was tempted to take a sip, HM gamely resisted, years of royal restraint coming into play, perhaps.

At her side, the duke looked like he might have a bit of a “lip” on him.

As the famous brewery slogan states, Guinness is good for you, but after a few anxious moments Philip declined to put the claim to the test.

However, he must have had a whiff of the river behind them as he asked Fergal Murray: “Is it made from Liffey water?”

Even their tour guide, RTÉ’s Ryan Tubridy, was silenced, but the man from Guinness pointed out that the source water for Guinness came from the Wicklow hills. Not quite Royal Meath, but reassuring nonetheless.

After the demonstration the couple were treated to a “windows tour of Dublin” by Tubridy.

At one point, the couple were invited to view the original 9,000-year lease — costing the princely sum of £45 per year — signed by Arthur Guinness for the St James’s Gate site in 1759.

The duke seemed in fine form and, according to Tubridy, quipped: “What kind of mug signs a lease like that?”