Talk about disappointed.  I had high hopes for this place, what with its location and idiosyncratic name. But after an hour or so and a couple drinks, I couldn't get past the 'meh' feeling that was permeating both my inner ennui and this bar as a whole.  That's when it hit me.  Coldplay started to play over the speakers and I knew I had found the musical analogue for this joint.  

Turf = Coldplay.  Trying to give you what want and failing epically. All the things you are supposed to like - the things you like about similar bands/bars have all been included.  You liked it once, you'll like it again! Right?  

Much like Coldplay's pomp and circumstance that is ultimately soulless, Turf Accountant fails to be genuine on any level.  Its all carefully crafted to give you some blend of quasi-upscale, Irish, hipster cool, but it just fails to deliver. I knew it was time to go when I heard Chris Martin's voice. If you find middling boring, I suggest passing on Turf.