They say if you want the pot of gold, follow the Irish. Turns out the leprechauns weren’t lying; they were just early angel investors.

Eight thousand years ago, the first crowd rocked up in skin boats with nothing but spears and a serious craving for salmon. A few thousand years later, their great-great-grandkids were living almost entirely on one type of potato. When that potato went rogue in the country emptied faster than a pub at closing time: half starved, half sailed away.

They spent the next century being Europe’s favourite cautionary tale. Then they did what they’ve always done: got stubborn, got clever, and got even. Slapped the world’s cheekiest corporate tax rate on the table, learned perfect American accents, and started welcoming every tech giant who wanted a European passport without the Brussels headache.

Fast-forward, and the same rainy rock that once exported nothing but heartbreak is now quietly shipping unicorns like it’s going out of fashion. Stripe, Intercom, Tines, Flipdish… the list keeps growing. Half the companies you scroll past on your phone run their European show from some glass box in Dublin’s docks, while Apple keeps adding floors because one giant campus in Cork apparently wasn’t enough.
Same sideways rain. Same black stuff on tap. Same underdog grin.

Only in Ireland could the national vegetable almost finish us off and then accidentally become the origin story for a dozen billion-euro companies.
So grab a pint and come wander the streets with us. We’ll drag you into warehouses in Citywest, co-working spots above chippers, and the odd smoky corner of a Temple Bar pub where the next world-changer is probably sketching their pitch on the back of a beermat right now.
The gold’s still here. It’s just wearing hoodies these days.