Guinness quietly opened a flagship across from Wheelock Square and forgot to tell anyone. We stumbled across it on the way home from the boozer. It's called the Guinness Gatehouse, and it has, by our count, about thirty taps pouring pints of Irish champagne for the lowest price in Shanghai. Plus, they'll print your face on it for free. Here's a joke for you: a brewery worker fell into a vat of Guinness and died. When his wife heard the news, she burst into tears and demanded to know if it had been a quick death. "Did my poor husband suffer?" she asked. "No," replied the foreman. "He got out three times to piss before he went under the last time."

* They say the Guinness Gatehouse only appears to happy drunks, between their tenth and twelfth pints, as they stagger home through foggy streets cut by harsh yellow street lamps, humming a ditty that has no name. It's like one of those 3D pictures; you have to unfocus your mind to see what's hidden in the swirling patterns. But seriously this giant two-and-a-half story endeavor flew totally under our radar until I literally stumbled across it. Occupying the entire south-west corner of the slowly, slowly reopening 1788 Plaza across from Jing'an Temple, it's broken into a ground-floor giftshop (with taps for pouring Guinness), a second floor sports pub sort of thing (minus screens, plus seven more taps for pouring Guinness than most sports pubs) and a dining/events area across the atrium (with taps for pouring Guinness). Altogether, it's something like 30 taps. That's a lot of taps. Here's another for you: "Young man," said the judge, looming over the disheveled defendant. "It's Guinness, and Guinness alone that's responsible for your present sorry state!" The defendant heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God. Everyone's been saying it was my fault." How's the Guinness? 52rmb, is what it is! The stout doesn't come in the proper 590ml pint glasses, these are probably a solid 150ml short of that, but 52rmb is still a steal. Throw in their happy hour two-for-one and it's categorically the best Guinness-for-money available in the city. Grand! Wonderful! Top of the morning! It's poured with great seriousness: 45 degree angle, left to settle as the creamy white head coalesces from the swirling, dancing nitrogen bubbles. I saw the bartender/Guinness Angel give the glass a solid, unnerving thwack to the bottom of the glass before leaving to sit. It looked authoritative. Practiced. Probably proprietary! But wait, there's more! They'll put your goddamn face on your pint! They have one of those printing machines that'll paint a monochromatic image on the foam of your drink with a tasteless malt extract. We first saw that at Cafe Fay. Here, it costs nothing extra, but if you really want to take full advantage of the effect, you'll need two drinks. Guinnception. There's an extensive food menu, which is surprising, since they already serve Guinness. Go with the burgers and onion rings. Avoid the Guinness-cooked hong shao rou. They also have a list of cocktails which are... so-so. The Wilde Oscar (he was Irish, you see!) is so-so. They should've done away with that crap and just trained every bartender to glare at anyone ordering a gin and tonic and growl "we don't do cocktails." Would've aided the ambience immensely. Ambience? What ambience? The entire building has not a single pool table, dart board or TV screen showing hurling. In the time I was there, the soundtrack pitched like a belligerent Ulster man from Thin Lizzy to Despacito to Simply Red to EDM. It was like getting headbutted by a juke box. If you're looking for a pub, go to the Tipsy Fiddler. Go to Blarney Stone. Go literally anywhere else. You're here to drink cheap Guinness and maybe get a branded pack of chips and a cap downstairs. Here, last one. Two men are trapped in a boat at sea. A lamp floats alongside the boat, and one guy rubs it. Out pops a genie and says "you have released me, I will grant you one wish." The other guy jumps in and says, "I wish this ocean was made of Guinness!" The genie snaps his fingers and disappears. The men are left bobbing, alone, in a dark ocean of foaming stout that stretches as far as the eye can see. "You idiot!" yells the first man. "Now we'll have to piss in the boat!" * Guinness Gatehouse is at 1788 Nanjing Xi Lu, near Wulumuqi Zhong Lu / 南京西路1788号, 近乌鲁木齐中路