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A royal-blue exterior beckons at this Murray Hill fixture, an Irish pub dating all the way back to 1991. Inside, the “perpetual happy hour” ($4 pints of Miller Lite all day, not too shabby for Manhattan) and a flat screen sports bonanza, highlighted by Premiere League soccer, keeps a steady stream of regulars breezily entertained. Spend five minutes inside and someone will no doubt tell you about the food, a surprisingly good hodgepodge of chicken Caesar wraps, cheesesteaks, and even a decent French onion soup. Weeknights, you’ll find a few couples sequestered in the cordoned-off table section, but the action is at the bar, where polite but brusque bartenders rush to change your cocktail napkin and chat you up about the glass etchings on the wall — all scenes from The Quiet Man. Spotless bathrooms and a jukebox full of old-school blues make it easy to pass the hours, but beware: The path to the bathroom takes you directly in front of the dart board. — Melissa Lafsky