I must admit, I find Pub Spy's reviews vaguely depressing. I can't really see the point of remarking on south-east London's vast catalogue of dreary and unremarkable pubs, pointing out the dartboard and the quality or otherwise of ghastly homogenised Eurolager. Camra's inventory of pubs with historic interiors is far more worthy: a few well worth a visit for their architectural qualities are: Star, Plumstead Common Road (1930s fixtures and fittings); Half Moon, Herne Hill (decorative mirrors and screens from 1896); George, Borough High Street (galleried inn of 1676 with original woodwork in one of the rooms). Cheers!
I bought half a lemonade in the POW on Blackheath on Friday. . .£2.15
That's right,two pounds, fifteen fuc*ing pence for a lemonade.
£4.30 a fuc*ing pint.
Sweet mother of Christ, what price freedom?
I admire your wordplay, Redskin, linking POW (prisoner of war) with the price of freedom. I had the misfortune to be in the Princess of Wales on a Friday night recently when it was unpleasantly noisy and crowded. Two pints of average strength ale, about four per cent ABV, and two bags of crisps came to.... "Ten pounds and 35 pee, please sir." Jesus Christ Almighty!
I bought half a lemonade in the POW on Blackheath on Friday. . .£2.15
That's right,two pounds, fifteen fuc*ing pence for a lemonade.
£4.30 a fuc*ing pint.
Sweet mother of Christ, what price freedom?
Back in the mists of time (the mid nineties, to be exact) I used to run a nightclub bar in the west end. We charged £2.00 for a soft drink that came out of a box of post-mix syrup. The glass was about a third of a pint in size. I think we paid about 35 quid wholesale for the post-mix. Rough calculations were that we made about 1000 percent profit on a box. Soft drinks in bars are the biggest con on earth.
I bought half a lemonade in the POW on Blackheath on Friday. . .£2.15
That's right,two pounds, fifteen fuc*ing pence for a lemonade.
£4.30 a fuc*ing pint.
Sweet mother of Christ, what price freedom?
Back in the mists of time (the mid nineties, to be exact) I used to run a nightclub bar in the west end. We charged £2.00 for a soft drink that came out of a box of post-mix syrup. The glass was about a third of a pint in size. I think we paid about 35 quid wholesale for the post-mix. Rough calculations were that we made about 1000 percent profit on a box. Soft drinks in bars are the biggest con on earth.
Exactly. I got my kids on lager by the time they were 5 :-)
I bought half a lemonade in the POW on Blackheath on Friday. . .£2.15
That's right,two pounds, fifteen fuc*ing pence for a lemonade.
£4.30 a fuc*ing pint.
Sweet mother of Christ, what price freedom?
Back in the mists of time (the mid nineties, to be exact) I used to run a nightclub bar in the west end. We charged £2.00 for a soft drink that came out of a box of post-mix syrup. The glass was about a third of a pint in size. I think we paid about 35 quid wholesale for the post-mix. Rough calculations were that we made about 1000 percent profit on a box. Soft drinks in bars are the biggest con on earth.
What? You mean an even bigger con that the IT industry and the "Millenium Bug" wheeze/ ;-)
WHY would you stick magazine cut-outs of topless women on the urinal wall?
Surely it is not the kind of place you want customers achieving arousal.
We’ll get to the odd decoration in the ladies’ loo later, but the point I’m trying to make is The Antigallican is an enigma.
Walking in, it felt like the Wild West. The locals were about my age, but obviously shared a set of hair clippers and a sportswear shop loyalty card, so I felt in mild peril.
Turns out I needn’t have because, despite a News Shopper colleague once being insulted while on his duties there, they turned out to be pleasant.
The Antigallican is cavernous inside and kitted out haphazardly – there are outdoor picnic tables, a fetching Jack Sparrow mural, an upturned boat in the bar area, a ship’s wheel on the wall, a pool table and a few TVs.
All the requisite elements were there, it was just not cohesive.
To describe a range of drinks would be too much – there were about four standard lagers and Strongbow. Soft drinks were strictly limited to coke or lemonade.
In choosing Budweiser I was reaching for the most exotic I could.
The price was in keeping with the pub’s theme too, as £3.20 felt like piracy given the shoddy choice.
Fortunately, The Antigallican redeemed itself with polite staff (who looked almost embarrassed by the meagre selection of beverages), plenty of games, a book exchange and some cracking tunes on the jukebox.
When I left a little while later, I found I’d actually had quite a good time, which I found as confusing as the men’s lavvy.
Oh, and the ladies toilet – a C***down chart, with Masterchef judges Greg and John at the summit. See, an enigma.
The Antigallican, 428 Woolwich Rd London SE7 8SU
How it rated:
Decor** Peculiar
Drink * Dreadful range
Price ** Bad considering the choice
Atmosphere **** Good music, only superficially-intimidating locals
Staff *** Helpful enough given the shortage of resources
ON paper, the Portobello ticks all the boxes. It has darts, a pool table, a jukebox, one-armed bandits and a large garden with swings, a climbing frame and a Wendy house.
The thing is, it is just so bloody depressing.
Desperately in need of a full makeover, it teams garish red carpets and bar with rough-textured white walls and half a dozen tired, scratched tables.
The bar gives the impression of being poorly stocked even though it isn't, and even the bald-headed punters’ conversation was a hangover from the 90s.
“Yeah, he’s good though, in’t he that Jim Carrey,” I heard one slaphead say.
You just wait until until some of his new stuff comes out on VHS, mate.
In one of them, he plays a pet detective.
Now I love meat but it often fills me with trepidation when a pub feels the need to go big on a meat raffle – posters were everywhere – and the Portobello was no different.
Sipping on a gassy San Miguel, I felt miserable in this pub.
The jukebox - playing even older material - was too loud, although it did a good job of masking the fact the pub had absolutely no atmosphere.
The barmaid was nice, normal and obliging, but the glass was dirty, which was a shame.
Unfortunately, the garden is ruined a bit because it is next to a busy road, but effort has been made to make it child-friendly and hospitable.
It felt like the kind of place in a crap 1970s movie that the protagonist seeks solace in during a crisis. It also felt like it ought to be smokey.
With toilets just as dated and depressing as the bar, I wouldn’t even fancy pulling off the main road and popping into the Portobello for a leak on a long drive.
IF looks were the only thing to judge a pub by then you wouldn’t touch The Barge Pole with....well, you get the idea.
As my driver trekked down Harrow Manor Way – that’s right, I’ve got a driver, let’s not make a fuss about it – I did not know if it was a good idea to pull in.
PubSpy has oft drunk in places with horses tied up outside, but not normally in the middle of a brutalist mass of pebble-dashed flats.
The nags perhaps brighten the place a little, I guess.
Miniature by comparison but in keeping with the impressively hideous tower blocks, walking into The Barge Pole felt like wandering into a grotty public lavvy.
I imagined a couple of hostile stares from the smokers when I walked over the threshold, but that was probably justifiable curiosity – I obviously didn’t fit in. I wasn’t even wearing tracky-bottoms.
Inside is a not total, but at least a significant, turnaround.
The Barge Pole is pretty well decorated for a toilet block. It is clean and follows a pleasing nautical theme in terms of its layout and wooden decor.
With few windows, it is dingy, the carpets are miserable and it has a lingering smell of urine and your opinion on the Hammers paraphernalia probably depends on your allegiance.
A pleasant surprise were the jovial punters, a couple of charming dogs and a wonderful Irish barmaid who was happy and most certainly not to be messed with.
The language around the bar was suitably ripe, adding to the earthy atmosphere and only once provoking a sweetly ironic rebuke from behind the bar.
“Are they talking filth Carol?” she chimed. “The dirty fecking arses...”
You don’t get a huge range of drinks on offer – it is more or less limited to Fosters, Strongbow, Guiness, Kronenbourg (for the poshos), John Smiths, a rank Courage bitter and another bitter that looks like it may have been from Lidl.
If you’re more keen on the craic than the tipple and surroundings, there’s a chance the Barge Pole may have enough to float your boat.
The Barge Pole, Coraline Walk, Thamesmead
How it rated:
Outside Nothing, nada.
Decor** Sort of like a boat
Drink ** Covers some of the bases
Price **** Signs boast two Jagerbombs for a fiver
Atmosphere *** Great staff
Staff *** Nice and authoritative
PubSpy reviews The Barge Pole, Thamesmead PubSpy reviews The Hare and Billet, Blackheath PubSpy reviews The Portobello Inn, West Kingsdown Review: The Alma, Sidcup Review: The Chatterton Arms, Bromley
PubSpy reviews The Hare and Billet, Blackheath Pub Spy By PubSpy
YOU know when your parents come to visit and you want a nice, safe pub to take them to - one that makes you seem more mature and well-to-do than you are? Well, this is it.
Perhaps you have a semi-formal meeting, you’re catching up with more successful friends or, heaven forbid, trying to impress a lady (second date, not first) – then you’ll want to bring them to the Hare and Billet.
But I wouldn’t make it my local. It’s a bit too try-hard, a bit too perfect and I’m a simple man. It feels awful writing that because I think I liked everything about this place. It just didn’t feel right.
Let’s start with the setting: bang on the heath, opposite a pretty pond in one of the most idyllic settings in London.
Inside is gorgeous with lots of weathered wood, classy vintage tables and seating, mixed levels, high ceilings, plenty of light.
Seldom will you see such a range of drinks either. I counted 14 different beers, ciders and lagers on tap. Some were so fresh and unique they only have a piece of marker pen-stained card to identify them.
I had a pint of Hare Ale (£3.70), specially brewed for the pub and served in a proper pint pot, and my driver had a couple of homemade lemonades (£1.65 each). Both were great and served by smiling, well-heeled youngsters wearing aprons.
We didn’t eat, but the menu looked nice, if a bit fussy with grub like Aubergine soup served with Harissa Yoghurt. Where’s the scampi? What about the bangers?
We sat and drank on a sunny afternoon, surrounded by a handful of smart folk a little more sophisticated than us. It was a bit uneasy and flat.
The Hare and Billet, Hare and Billet Road, Blackheath
All of the pubs in Blackheath are hard to like on weekend evenings: the Hare & Billet and the Crown get rammed. Was in the Railway and the Princess of Wales briefly last Saturday night: pleasant view of totty in microskirts and six-inch stilettos - but oh, the noise! All the Chardonnays and Chlamydias were shrieking "OH MY GOD!" at ten thousand decibels....
Used the like the old Hare and Billet with it's square bar in the middle. Pubs in Blackheath have changed so much since my young drinking days. The Railway Tavern was great, good Ind Coope ale and good atmosphere, now simply awful. Three Tuns was quite interesting, drove past it's present incarnation on Sunday evening about 9pm and it was empty, I don't just mean a few in there I mean empty. No one at the bar and as far as I could see no one in there at all. Never liked the POW at all. Crown was all right, been ponced up a bit but is Shep Neame now so the beer is reliable.
Used the like the old Hare and Billet with it's square bar in the middle. Pubs in Blackheath have changed so much since my young drinking days. The Railway Tavern was great, good Ind Coope ale and good atmosphere, now simply awful. Three Tuns was quite interesting, drove past it's present incarnation on Sunday evening about 9pm and it was empty, I don't just mean a few in there I mean empty. No one at the bar and as far as I could see no one in there at all. Never liked the POW at all. Crown was all right, been ponced up a bit but is Shep Neame now so the beer is reliable.
Yes, I remember the Hare & Billet in the 1970s with the square servery as you recall, and the little old boys' bar at the front: Whitbread (Chiswell Street) bitter in jugs. And the Railway as you say, with the small elbow room down the side: potent Ind Coope Burton Bitter. The Three Tuns was THE place to drink in the late 60s/early 70s - Draught Bass and Charrington IPA - full of musos and artists (piss-artists too), sadly a bit before my time though my sister was a regular in them days... Don't forget the Dacre Arms, in the back-streets at Lee: it's still a cosy, comfortable, wood-panelled gig with excellent beer. And it doesn't get rammed with shrieking totty on Friday and Saturday nights.
I used to work in Blackheath (1980s), used all the pubs there and like everyone of them, the Billet in particular. Always found the pubs very welcoming. Strange review in some ways, she liked the decor, drink and price but because the other drinkers weren't the usual pub knobs it weren't for her.
Yes likewise keston, I worked in Charlton in the 80s and 90s and the Princess in particular was a haunt, as well as the Tuns and Hare & Billett - even had a farewell drink in the Hare with old workmates before we moved out here. All had decent ale and a friendly atmosphere.
Thursday 29th August 2013 in Leisure latest news By PubSpy
“WHAT can I get you, love?”
“There you go, love?”
“Anything else, love?”
If you say a word too often, does it lose its meaning?
It possibly does, you know, because I’m not sure I was the barmaid’s love (and if I was, she was incredibly forward yet also betraying her linguistic message with her body language).
God, there I go again, criticising the thing I enjoyed most about a pub. Sorry, lady behind the bar, you rock. You were cheerful, welcoming and your vocal work to Adele on the radio made my evening.
The pub itself is clean, with a carpet that feels especially soft underfoot and springy bench seats than nearly catapulted me into the table.
Effort had been made with the floral displays, inside and out, and there’s a dart board, function room and pool table.
For no apparent reason, I found going for a drink at The Star and Garter akin to taking a fistful of barbiturates.
It could have been the fact it was deserted or it may have been down to the dated decor and dreary Magic soundtrack. It certainly wasn’t the barmaid, or the flowers.
Now, I love those lights which have candle bulbs and fake melted wax on, but in an ironic way. I’ve honestly not seen any since my dearly-departed nan’s bungalow, and had hoped they were buried with her.
Clearly, some love and attention has been paid to this pub – it just needs a bit of modernisation and a change of radio station.
The Star and Garter, Old Woolwich Road, Maze Hill SE10 9NY
How it rated:
Decor: ** Cared for, but dated
Drink: *** Decent range
Price: **** £4.20 for a Youngs and sparkling water
Thursday 29th August 2013 in Leisure latest news By PubSpy
“WHAT can I get you, love?”
“There you go, love?”
“Anything else, love?”
If you say a word too often, does it lose its meaning?
It possibly does, you know, because I’m not sure I was the barmaid’s love (and if I was, she was incredibly forward yet also betraying her linguistic message with her body language).
God, there I go again, criticising the thing I enjoyed most about a pub. Sorry, lady behind the bar, you rock. You were cheerful, welcoming and your vocal work to Adele on the radio made my evening.
The pub itself is clean, with a carpet that feels especially soft underfoot and springy bench seats than nearly catapulted me into the table.
Effort had been made with the floral displays, inside and out, and there’s a dart board, function room and pool table.
For no apparent reason, I found going for a drink at The Star and Garter akin to taking a fistful of barbiturates.
It could have been the fact it was deserted or it may have been down to the dated decor and dreary Magic soundtrack. It certainly wasn’t the barmaid, or the flowers.
Now, I love those lights which have candle bulbs and fake melted wax on, but in an ironic way. I’ve honestly not seen any since my dearly-departed nan’s bungalow, and had hoped they were buried with her.
Clearly, some love and attention has been paid to this pub – it just needs a bit of modernisation and a change of radio station.
The Star and Garter, Old Woolwich Road, Maze Hill SE10 9NY
How it rated:
Decor: ** Cared for, but dated
Drink: *** Decent range
Price: **** £4.20 for a Youngs and sparkling water
OVER 18s only and Smart Casual Dress only, the two bold signs on the door say.
So central to The Pembroke's raison d'etre are these rules that the signs are made from what looks like brass. Strong and permanent.
But stone me if there wasn't a bleeding child behind the bar.
How did you get in here nipper? And while we're at it, you're more smart than smart casual.
And everyone else in here is significantly more casual than smart casual. Am I the only one obeying the signs?
I don't know if you've ever read Danny Wallace's Yes Man, but this kid was not a Yes Man.
He neither said yes, nor was he a man.
No Grolsch, no Carling - not that I asked for the latter, if I am ever forced to drink micturition I'd prefer to know the source.
What on earth do you think the pictures on the taps are for sunbeam? They certainly are not art.
I paid £3.55 for a Magners Golden Draught - mildly insulting for a big chain pub in Gravesend - and trudged across a grotty, chewing gum-scarred carpet to a booth with scratched and worn leather seats.
At first glance this pub looks spacious and sophisticated. First impressions can be deceiving.
Deeper investigation reveals a characterless sub-Wetherspoons dive where you are more likely to see a urinal cake-blue WKD resting on a table than a decent ale.
There were about half a dozen punters called Gazza or Steve or something - all of whom appeared to be keeping the High Street's Sports Direct in business - but little in the way of atmosphere.
Perhaps management should replace the prohibitive plaques on the door - No Under 18s, Smart Casual Dress Only, No Point Coming In.
The Pembroke, King Street, Gravesend
How it rated:
Decor *** Adequate but flat
Drinks* Even the lagers were out
Price** Not cheap for a cheap chain
Staff ** Will be a decent barman when he grows up
Atmosphere * Not even Gazza and Stevo appeared to enjoy it
Comments
That's right,two pounds, fifteen fuc*ing pence for a lemonade.
£4.30 a fuc*ing pint.
Sweet mother of Christ, what price freedom?
;-)
WHY would you stick magazine cut-outs of topless women on the urinal wall?
Surely it is not the kind of place you want customers achieving arousal.
We’ll get to the odd decoration in the ladies’ loo later, but the point I’m trying to make is The Antigallican is an enigma.
Walking in, it felt like the Wild West. The locals were about my age, but obviously shared a set of hair clippers and a sportswear shop loyalty card, so I felt in mild peril.
Turns out I needn’t have because, despite a News Shopper colleague once being insulted while on his duties there, they turned out to be pleasant.
The Antigallican is cavernous inside and kitted out haphazardly – there are outdoor picnic tables, a fetching Jack Sparrow mural, an upturned boat in the bar area, a ship’s wheel on the wall, a pool table and a few TVs.
All the requisite elements were there, it was just not cohesive.
To describe a range of drinks would be too much – there were about four standard lagers and Strongbow. Soft drinks were strictly limited to coke or lemonade.
In choosing Budweiser I was reaching for the most exotic I could.
The price was in keeping with the pub’s theme too, as £3.20 felt like piracy given the shoddy choice.
Fortunately, The Antigallican redeemed itself with polite staff (who looked almost embarrassed by the meagre selection of beverages), plenty of games, a book exchange and some cracking tunes on the jukebox.
When I left a little while later, I found I’d actually had quite a good time, which I found as confusing as the men’s lavvy.
Oh, and the ladies toilet – a C***down chart, with Masterchef judges Greg and John at the summit. See, an enigma.
The Antigallican, 428 Woolwich Rd London SE7 8SU
How it rated:
Decor** Peculiar
Drink * Dreadful range
Price ** Bad considering the choice
Atmosphere **** Good music, only superficially-intimidating locals
Staff *** Helpful enough given the shortage of resources
ON paper, the Portobello ticks all the boxes. It has darts, a pool table, a jukebox, one-armed bandits and a large garden with swings, a climbing frame and a Wendy house.
The thing is, it is just so bloody depressing.
Desperately in need of a full makeover, it teams garish red carpets and bar with rough-textured white walls and half a dozen tired, scratched tables.
The bar gives the impression of being poorly stocked even though it isn't, and even the bald-headed punters’ conversation was a hangover from the 90s.
“Yeah, he’s good though, in’t he that Jim Carrey,” I heard one slaphead say.
You just wait until until some of his new stuff comes out on VHS, mate.
In one of them, he plays a pet detective.
Now I love meat but it often fills me with trepidation when a pub feels the need to go big on a meat raffle – posters were everywhere – and the Portobello was no different.
Sipping on a gassy San Miguel, I felt miserable in this pub.
The jukebox - playing even older material - was too loud, although it did a good job of masking the fact the pub had absolutely no atmosphere.
The barmaid was nice, normal and obliging, but the glass was dirty, which was a shame.
Unfortunately, the garden is ruined a bit because it is next to a busy road, but effort has been made to make it child-friendly and hospitable.
It felt like the kind of place in a crap 1970s movie that the protagonist seeks solace in during a crisis. It also felt like it ought to be smokey.
With toilets just as dated and depressing as the bar, I wouldn’t even fancy pulling off the main road and popping into the Portobello for a leak on a long drive.
Portobello Inn, London Road, West Kingsdown
How it rated:
Decor* Massive overhaul needed
Drink * Dirty glass, gassy beer, standard range
Price ** £5.60 for a San Miguel and a J20
Atmosphere * Very little
Staff **** Very nice and helpful
Excellent pmsl.
IF looks were the only thing to judge a pub by then you wouldn’t touch The Barge Pole with....well, you get the idea.
As my driver trekked down Harrow Manor Way – that’s right, I’ve got a driver, let’s not make a fuss about it – I did not know if it was a good idea to pull in.
PubSpy has oft drunk in places with horses tied up outside, but not normally in the middle of a brutalist mass of pebble-dashed flats.
The nags perhaps brighten the place a little, I guess.
Miniature by comparison but in keeping with the impressively hideous tower blocks, walking into The Barge Pole felt like wandering into a grotty public lavvy.
I imagined a couple of hostile stares from the smokers when I walked over the threshold, but that was probably justifiable curiosity – I obviously didn’t fit in. I wasn’t even wearing tracky-bottoms.
Inside is a not total, but at least a significant, turnaround.
The Barge Pole is pretty well decorated for a toilet block. It is clean and follows a pleasing nautical theme in terms of its layout and wooden decor.
With few windows, it is dingy, the carpets are miserable and it has a lingering smell of urine and your opinion on the Hammers paraphernalia probably depends on your allegiance.
A pleasant surprise were the jovial punters, a couple of charming dogs and a wonderful Irish barmaid who was happy and most certainly not to be messed with.
The language around the bar was suitably ripe, adding to the earthy atmosphere and only once provoking a sweetly ironic rebuke from behind the bar.
“Are they talking filth Carol?” she chimed. “The dirty fecking arses...”
You don’t get a huge range of drinks on offer – it is more or less limited to Fosters, Strongbow, Guiness, Kronenbourg (for the poshos), John Smiths, a rank Courage bitter and another bitter that looks like it may have been from Lidl.
If you’re more keen on the craic than the tipple and surroundings, there’s a chance the Barge Pole may have enough to float your boat.
The Barge Pole, Coraline Walk, Thamesmead
How it rated:
Outside Nothing, nada.
Decor** Sort of like a boat
Drink ** Covers some of the bases
Price **** Signs boast two Jagerbombs for a fiver
Atmosphere *** Great staff
Staff *** Nice and authoritative
PubSpy reviews The Barge Pole, Thamesmead
PubSpy reviews The Hare and Billet, Blackheath
PubSpy reviews The Portobello Inn, West Kingsdown
Review: The Alma, Sidcup
Review: The Chatterton Arms, Bromley
Nice one Hopper - wanky little shit rag that you are.
Why not review a proper pub that people might want to go to?
PubSpy reviews The Hare and Billet, Blackheath
Pub Spy By PubSpy
YOU know when your parents come to visit and you want a nice, safe pub to take them to - one that makes you seem more mature and well-to-do than you are? Well, this is it.
Perhaps you have a semi-formal meeting, you’re catching up with more successful friends or, heaven forbid, trying to impress a lady (second date, not first) – then you’ll want to bring them to the Hare and Billet.
But I wouldn’t make it my local. It’s a bit too try-hard, a bit too perfect and I’m a simple man.
It feels awful writing that because I think I liked everything about this place. It just didn’t feel right.
Let’s start with the setting: bang on the heath, opposite a pretty pond in one of the most idyllic settings in London.
Inside is gorgeous with lots of weathered wood, classy vintage tables and seating, mixed levels, high ceilings, plenty of light.
Seldom will you see such a range of drinks either. I counted 14 different beers, ciders and lagers on tap. Some were so fresh and unique they only have a piece of marker pen-stained card to identify them.
I had a pint of Hare Ale (£3.70), specially brewed for the pub and served in a proper pint pot, and my driver had a couple of homemade lemonades (£1.65 each). Both were great and served by smiling, well-heeled youngsters wearing aprons.
We didn’t eat, but the menu looked nice, if a bit fussy with grub like Aubergine soup served with Harissa Yoghurt. Where’s the scampi? What about the bangers?
We sat and drank on a sunny afternoon, surrounded by a handful of smart folk a little more sophisticated than us. It was a bit uneasy and flat.
The Hare and Billet, Hare and Billet Road, Blackheath
How it rated:
Decor: Like a pub showroom *****
Drink: Incredible variety *****
Price: Ok, given the venue and location ***
Atmosphere: Not for me **
Staff: A cut above ****
nobody in their right mind would ever go for a drink in there.
Never liked the POW at all. Crown was all right, been ponced up a bit but is Shep Neame now so the beer is reliable.
Always found the pubs very welcoming.
Strange review in some ways, she liked the decor, drink and price but because the other drinkers weren't the usual pub knobs it weren't for her.
PubSpy reviews The Star and Garter, Maze Hill
Thursday 29th August 2013 in Leisure latest news By PubSpy
“WHAT can I get you, love?”
“There you go, love?”
“Anything else, love?”
If you say a word too often, does it lose its meaning?
It possibly does, you know, because I’m not sure I was the barmaid’s love (and if I was, she was incredibly forward yet also betraying her linguistic message with her body language).
God, there I go again, criticising the thing I enjoyed most about a pub. Sorry, lady behind the bar, you rock. You were cheerful, welcoming and your vocal work to Adele on the radio made my evening.
The pub itself is clean, with a carpet that feels especially soft underfoot and springy bench seats than nearly catapulted me into the table.
Effort had been made with the floral displays, inside and out, and there’s a dart board, function room and pool table.
For no apparent reason, I found going for a drink at The Star and Garter akin to taking a fistful of barbiturates.
It could have been the fact it was deserted or it may have been down to the dated decor and dreary Magic soundtrack. It certainly wasn’t the barmaid, or the flowers.
Now, I love those lights which have candle bulbs and fake melted wax on, but in an ironic way. I’ve honestly not seen any since my dearly-departed nan’s bungalow, and had hoped they were buried with her.
Clearly, some love and attention has been paid to this pub – it just needs a bit of modernisation and a change of radio station.
The Star and Garter, Old Woolwich Road, Maze Hill SE10 9NY
How it rated:
Decor: ** Cared for, but dated
Drink: *** Decent range
Price: **** £4.20 for a Youngs and sparkling water
Atmosphere: * The decor and Magic bummed me out
Staff: **** Charming
Only asking as he/she doesnt seem to emntion it.
OVER 18s only and Smart Casual Dress only, the two bold signs on the door say.
So central to The Pembroke's raison d'etre are these rules that the signs are made from what looks like brass. Strong and permanent.
But stone me if there wasn't a bleeding child behind the bar.
How did you get in here nipper? And while we're at it, you're more smart than smart casual.
And everyone else in here is significantly more casual than smart casual. Am I the only one obeying the signs?
I don't know if you've ever read Danny Wallace's Yes Man, but this kid was not a Yes Man.
He neither said yes, nor was he a man.
No Grolsch, no Carling - not that I asked for the latter, if I am ever forced to drink micturition I'd prefer to know the source.
What on earth do you think the pictures on the taps are for sunbeam? They certainly are not art.
I paid £3.55 for a Magners Golden Draught - mildly insulting for a big chain pub in Gravesend - and trudged across a grotty, chewing gum-scarred carpet to a booth with scratched and worn leather seats.
At first glance this pub looks spacious and sophisticated. First impressions can be deceiving.
Deeper investigation reveals a characterless sub-Wetherspoons dive where you are more likely to see a urinal cake-blue WKD resting on a table than a decent ale.
There were about half a dozen punters called Gazza or Steve or something - all of whom appeared to be keeping the High Street's Sports Direct in business - but little in the way of atmosphere.
Perhaps management should replace the prohibitive plaques on the door - No Under 18s, Smart Casual Dress Only, No Point Coming In.
The Pembroke, King Street, Gravesend
How it rated:
Decor *** Adequate but flat
Drinks* Even the lagers were out
Price** Not cheap for a cheap chain
Staff ** Will be a decent barman when he grows up
Atmosphere * Not even Gazza and Stevo appeared to enjoy it