The Craic in the Bar   Irish backpackers in the late-night closer living it large no mothers and fathers to take off the edge.   But the big blonde shows all of the signs leans out to touch the boy of her choice with a devout foot.   He pushes her off with the flat of one careless hand the other hand lifts the glass to his mouth.   She falls from the bar stool slowly she topples like the replay of something that has happened before. Her village ignores her   anguish of wanting crumpled, no, crouching below on…