7 of the best chaotic Irish building projects that are peak Celtic Tiger

We can all agree that the Spire doesn't cut it as far as iconic landmarks go. New York gets the Statue of Liberty, Britain gets the London Eye, and France gets the Eiffel Tower. In 2006, developer Barry Boland tried to supply Ireland with its own recognisable attraction, by proposing the 'Suas'. Set to be a cable car system set that would run from Heuston station to the docklands, he had dreams of the Suas becoming a tourist attraction along the Liffey remarkable enough to compete with the big names. His first proposal included building four towers along the river, two of which were supposed to be among the tallest structures in Ireland, reaching 80m tall. Each cable car would hold 25 people, costing €15 for a 20-minute trip.

They estimated the cost of the project to be €90 million, and over the years following Boland attempted to receive extra funding to speed things up. He asked and was eventually rejected by An Bord Pleanála to rule that the 'Suas' could qualify as strategic infrastructure. But he still did not let his determination to transform Dublin into the next cosmopolitan paradise die. In 2014, it was debated again by Dublin city councillors and was called an idea "worth pursuing" by Labour councillor Dermot Lacey, according to Fora.

Talks about the Suas have pretty much ended, but Boland still sees potential for his passion project. He told Fora that he argues it would have "a positive impact" on the Dublin skyline, and is anxiously awaiting their application for planning permission to be approved by the Dublin City Council. A spokesman for the council told Fora they haven't received any planning application, which gets us worried we might never be lucky enough to experience seeing what Dublin city has to offer from a bird’s eye perspective (that might be a little too chaotic, actually). 

When one thinks of the world-renowned Irish rock band 'U2', obviously the first thing one thinks of is the band's architectural skills. At the end of the 90s, there was a push to regenerate many of the disused sites in the docklands by the Dublin Docklands Development Authority (DDDA). U2 became involved when there was a compulsory purchase order on the band's old recording studio at Grand Canal Dock -- so naturally, the only option was to build a 130m 'tilted triangle' skyscraper.

The star of the show though, was the 'park in the sky'. A 12-storey, triangular building that would offer 40 apartments. The sky garden would feature on the triangle's sloped roof, where people could gaze across inner city Dublin 50 metres in the air. The project was initially estimated to cost more than €1 billion, with the expectation of over 3,000 permanent jobs to be created. However, by the time it was granted planning permission in 2010, the project had already faced heavy revision - with the sky garden being completely wiped out. 

Under the official title Stadium Ireland, the project was set to be a sports campus in Abbottstown sprawled across a 500-acre plot. With its long list of seriously hopeful features, the stadium was one of the more outrageous ideas born during the Celtic Tiger. It was initially imagined to have a 15,000-seat indoor arena, multiple sports halls, tennis courts, a sports science and medical centre, an aquatic centre with a 50m pool, a golf academy, a velodrome and offices for sports organisations. The key feature of the Bertie Bowl was its 65,000 all-seat stadium to replace Lansdowne Road ground, which was in a dilapidated state at the time.

The lead-up to the new millennium was a time full of mystery and opportunity, apprehension for what the new century might bring. Perhaps in an attempt to intensify these feelings, the Irish National Lottery thought outside the box when planning and commissioning what eventually became the Millennium Clock. Weighing six tonnes, worth £250,000, and placed just under the River Liffey's surface, the clock's illuminated numbers would shine up through the water and count down the seconds to the long-awaited year 2000. They also set up a kiosk on O'Connell Bridge where one could buy postcards showing the number of seconds left until the new millennium, which proved highly successful (actually way more successful than the actual clock).

It wasn't long before the poor Millennium Clock ran into trouble. The timepiece had very little water resistance, couldn't be seen from multiple perspectives and often displayed the wrong time. It also heavily struggled under the Liffey's harsh water conditions, and eventually developed a green sludge exterior that left it unreadable, securing its infamous nickname The Chime in the Slime. Nine months after its unveiling, after the piss had been thoroughly taken out of it, the Irish National Lottery put the clock out of its humiliating misery and removed it from the river.

The first draft for the casino was one of the most outlandish propositions we've seen so far, including an all-weather racecourse, greyhound tracks, an equestrian centre, a casino, a 500-bedroom hotel, a golf course on an 800-acre development and a car park with almost 6,000 spaces. Like the rest of Tipperary's casinos, it also included a full-size replica of the White House and (casually) a landing pad for helicopters. It was estimated to cost about €460 million and would employ up to 2,000 people when finished. Similar to many of its Celtic Tiger siblings, the project faced obstacles early on in its life. Initially, local residents and the conservation body An Taisce voiced criticism towards the idea. Complaints varied from the level of traffic generated by the venue to noise, to carbon emissions, and An Taisce even cited a necessity to redirect "750m of river waters" according to a 2011 Journal article.

In 2011, the casino got the go-ahead after an appeal to An Bord Pleanála, but it was soon met with more trouble when the government announced new gambling laws in Ireland, one of which would block giant, resort-style casinos. Quirke was granted planning permission for a redesign of the project in 2013, that focused on the sporting aspect of the institution. Realistically, if our first draft of an institution included an entire White House and was reduced to a sporting facility, we wouldn't be bothered either. 

The idea was managed by Owen Keegan, who is a veteran kayaker who competed 25 times in the Liffey Descent race. Unsurprisingly, when people discovered he had a personal interest in water sports, the slagging got worse for the white water rafting facility. Councillor Mannix Flynn even described it as a "grandiose vanity project" to the Irish Independent. Similarly to many of our projects, the facilities' offers were hugely out of touch with the average Dubliner's interests. His proposal included white water rapids, canoe and water polo, an elite slalom squad, and training facilities for emergency water rescue services.