We spent a night in a B&B in Enniskillen once. Politics wasn’t spoken, but we weren’t allowed to escape to our room until our hostess had treated us to a full set of Protestant hymns, ground out on her pump organ. This, in case the weary traveler had any doubts as to her loyalties.
Oh yes, and demon whiskey was a language not spoken there. Maybe your guest feared the full protestant treatment at your house until shots were, um, fired?
