Save The Boozer

2010-04-07T22:00:00.004Z

The Nightingale
51 Nightingale Lane, London E11 2EY, Tel: 020 8530 2900

Thanks to contributor, Iain Aitch, for recommending this East End gem. He says: "A fantastic old man pub. Was there around new year and it felt like being in a smaller Queen Vic circa 1985. Also had a great Wanstead pub experience on Sunday -- someone DJing in pub. Not a Hoxton fin wearer dropping beats, but a stereotypical zone 3 uber dyke playing the Marvelettes and announcing every song!"

Anyone else tried the Nightingale? Let us know...

2010-03-26T15:09:00.009Z

Sunday lunch without the gastro

Yearn for that rare breed of Sunday roast venue; a pub where you're more likely to be called "love" than have to listen to young parents, glancing up from the complimentary weekend broadsheets, yelling "come here now, Jocasta!" at their small offspring?

There's no better place for a lazy lunch than a proper boozer. It's the next best thing to sitting round your mum's kitchen table. Regular contributor Carolyn Evans couldn't agree more, and she's compiled a great new guide (published in full at Matadornights.com) telling you where to find the best boozer roasts in London.

There's the "East End boozer" where this gravy-drenched plateful (left) will be served in the comforting surrounds of "dodgy décor, sarcastic old landlord and dark interior". At another, there's "melt-on-your-mouth mashed swede and home-made Yorkshire puddings" as good as Gran would make. She also sampled real ale and half a roast chicken in the salubrious surrounds of "red Indian chiefs, golden Greek Gods and Barbies dressed as Baywatch lifeguards".

Carolyn's guide will have you feeling nostalgic for those good old days (as well as very hungry). Tuck those napkins into your tops, now...

Read more from Carolyn Evans at her blog, The chronicles of the average mind

Photo courtesy of Carolyn Evans

2010-01-04T18:00:00.000Z

Sad to have missed out on this three-day lock-in at the Tan Hill Inn in North Yorkshire...

2009-12-18T12:48:00.002Z

SUPPORT FROM MR STEVE

Belatedly, from a lovely chap called Steve, who writes: "What an excellent campaign... my friends and I are firm believers in the Great British Pub, and would never meet in a bar (although don't get me wrong, a bar has its place), I am 31 but for as long as I can remember I always preferred pubs to bars, and hopefully always will now, simple reasons are that it's much easier to meet new people, socialize with mates (in a place you can actually hear what each other are saying!), and I can probably say the last couple of girlfriends I've had probably were all met in a pub - so simple reasons, but probably the reasons most others will give you. Good luck with the rest of your campaign, I'll spread the word!" Thanks Steve!

2009-11-06T09:32:00.004Z

Save boozers via your remote control

It's been far too long since the last post. Rather than boring you with the reasons why, we're diving straight in with some breaking news.

Yes, they have somewhat shamelessly part-stolen STB's name but the new TV series, Save Our Boozer (on UKTV's new channel, Blighty) is nevertheless supporting the cause... so switch on and join in.

The five-part series sees award-winning pub landlord, Jay Smith, lead five rural communities as they aim to bring their locals back from the brink with a revamp and some lessons in profitable business running. The project, say show's makers is "part of a mission to bring the great British boozer back to their home towns". Each rural location featured in the series has a local pub that has shut down, is deteriorating or heading for ruin because of a mixture of the recession, the smoking ban, rising costs and competition from supermarkets. Say the people behind Save Our Boozer:
"At the heart of communities across the UK, there used to be the British pub – the great British boozer renowned around the world. But now, fifty pubs are closing a week, meaning that by 2012, one in six will be gone for good. We are losing our national heritage and the lifeblood of our communities is being drained away."
Let's just hope that "revamp" doesn't mean "homogenise" (stripped floors and cream walls just aren't what pubs are about – as sadly witnessed in STB's south London local, the Effra).

We'll look forward to seeing how Jay and the teams get on...

'Save Our Boozer' is on Blighty at 8pm from Tuesday 8 December.

2009-06-12T13:12:00.004Z

The Duke of Sussex, Bayliss Road, Waterloo

This pub was home to possibly the best birthday I've ever had (though due to extraordinarily cheap drinks - some of it is a bit hazy).

Brilliantly friendly staff, non-flashy crisps, proper carpet - and random karaoke! Highlights: Lionel Ritchie's All Night Long (thanks Carole for actually doing the singing bit while I tried to be some kind of Smooth Radio soul Bez by your side) and Salt n Pepa's Let's Talk About Sex, sung by two brilliant giggling teenage (but not underage, of course) girls. What a nice, ahem, family atmosphere...

2009-05-03T13:25:00.004Z

The Birdcage, Columbia Road

What a gem - nestled between Columbia Road's chi chi shops and never-open bars and restaurants (unless you're with the weekend hordes) - lies the Birdcage.

A proper East End boozer with everything that isn't supposed to be cool in place: big screens, carpet, flashing quiz machines, a pool table and, if you're lucky, a bit of a hard stare from another customer and his dog as you walk in for the first time.

Hopefully that'll have put you all off going - wouldn't want everyone rushing down there, that'd spoil it.

2009-01-27T23:57:00.006Z

How good is this?

STB just got a lovely email from Gabrielle, a woman after our own heart... We think this might be her, here, in the rather fetching t-shirt, which, cunningly, you can buy on her brilliant website Drink Beer and Carry On where it is quite rightly pointed out that: "In these rather trying times, we can't allow the backbone of Britain, its pubs, to wither away and die..." Show your support for the cause in appropriate attire. Thanks Gabrielle!

2009-01-27T16:40:00.009Z

Thanks to Alison Keith for nominating two lovely London boozers - the Mason's Arms and the White Horse, both in the centre of town - and both nominated for their own, unique and lovable qualities...

BOOZER OF THE YEAR:

Which pub are you nominating for overall Boozer of the Year – and why?
The Masons Arms - Parker Street, London WC2 - it is literally full of Masons - the bar staff all wear ties and the carpet is all swirly... It has truly classic decor and also serves classic pub fayre!

BOOZER BOGS OF THE YEAR:

Basic, bizarre or beautifully perfumed - what gives them that 'boozer' edge?

The White Horse - Rupert Street, Soho, London - despite the dodgy location - the loos are always really clean!

2008-10-31T14:06:00.002Z

International fame for the Elm Park Tavern and Wenlock Arms

Here's a link to a heartwarming news film about the fate of the British Boozer which I helped American TV company, NBC, to make a couple of months back. I took them to London N1's marvellous Wenlock Arms and also to Brixton's Elm Park Tavern. It's only just aired.

Enjoy!

2008-10-01T13:37:00.000Z

Editor of the Good Beer Guide is optimistic about the future of pubs...

Cockle-warming words from Roger Protz, editor of the Good Beer Guide: "The British pub is alive and well," he writes in his feature in the Independent, "a claim that should cause the men in white coats to cart me off for a period of quiet contemplation in a padded cell."

"I'm aware of the statistics," he admits "[that] 36 pubs close every week. And yet it's not all gloom in the pub trade. The evidence from the new Good Beer Guide is that publicans who do the basics well and avoid gimmicks are attracting custom."

"When Camra and the Good Beer Guide were launched in the early 1970s," he continues, "pubs were utilitarian places, shorn of comforts and appealing mainly to men. Food, at best, was a cheese sandwich, at worst a packet of pork scratchings. Today, they offer real service, welcome women and families and, increasingly, serve good food at sensible prices."

Mmm. But some of us like "utilitarian" decor...

2008-08-22T22:54:00.000Z

Thanks, for this bit of boozer power news, to Jeremy (and thanks to South London Press for image)...

If you want a desperately unhip old man pub, try the White Hart in New Cross recently in the news because the landlord applied for a pole dancing and strip joint licence which was refused on Thursday by Lewisham Council.

More about it here

What the locals think...

Application for pole dancing licence at White Hart

2008-07-25T23:15:00.001Z

Poll results!

Thanks to everyone who voted for the ultimate pub jukebox tune. The winner, hands-down, was the one and only Ms Dolly Parton - with that sticky carpet stalwart, 9-5. Close behind - and almost tying in second and third places, were (my personal favourites) Kayleigh's Marillion (where else do you ever hear that one but wafting from a proper old school boozer jukebox - usually when no one's put any money in for a while and it's on automatic play everything mode) and I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight, by Foreigner. Who said the 80s had no style?

A poor show for the St Paddy's day favourite - Danny Boy (clearly not enough Irish pub fans logging on - I'll have to hunt you down) - which lost miserably, with just 10% of your votes beaten, with just three per cent, by ELO's Xanadu.

Surprisingly, no one suggested Queen's We Are the Champions, nor 99 Red Balloons, by Germanic 80s chart tickler, Nena... any others we missed? Send them to me here

Hurrah for the winners and the losers...

Kayleigh, Marillion	23%
Xanadu, ELO	13%
I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight, Foreigner	21%
9-5, Dolly Parton	31%
Danny Boy, Foster & Allen	10%

2008-07-20T20:09:00.000Z

Is anyone out there fighting to save a cherished local? Or thinking about it...?

If so, a TV researcher wants to talk to you. Naomi Harvey is researching a potential series which follows a group of locals pooling their money to fight to save their local. For this to work it would have to be an existing pub that is not bringing in enough money and needs to turn around fast.

If this could be you - or if it's just the nudge you need to get a campaign up and running, contact Naomi at: Naomi.harvey@lovewest.co.uk

2008-06-29T08:46:00.009Z

Save the Boozer in the Independent on Sunday

magazine

Run out to buy it to read 'Last Chance Saloon' or click here (but that does mean you'll miss the brilliant photos of people like The Two Petes - the amazing in-house band at the Montague Arms, Cath Duffy, the Newcastle landlady not afraid to let off a stink bomb if you mess with her, and Eddie 'The Fat Controller', pub quiz caller extraordinaire and, he says, 'a god' to his fans.

2008-06-28T18:36:00.003Z

STB REVIEW: The Birdcage

80 Columbia Road, London E2 Map

“The cowboys are back in town!” they announce proudly,

swaggering in. The odd bit of

chatter from the locals and the

barwoman’s dirty laugh suddenly stop, and all you can hear are the swinging doors and the sound of leather chafing.

Tonight’s entertainment is organised by a couple of cowboys. Green and gold metal sculptures of peacocks displaying real tail feathers with eyes look down on the proceedings, their cages next to them, empty.

The Birdcage is a good place to come for a relaxing pint before heading off to the friend of a mate’s birthday do at one of those trendy Hoxton clubs. It isn’t like a cage at all and is, in fact, very open - there’s no door policy, and even sensible shoes are allowed. It’s in Shoreditch, but it may as well be in Mile End. There are no pretensions, just real lives.

For instance, celebrities are regulars here but they’re the authentic versions. The 45-year old barwoman is the original Amy Winehouse; ravaged looks and a mass of curly, black hair with a gravelly smoker’s voice and a whole night’s worth of heckling-style banter. Then there’s the 30-something Agyness Deyn with short, white blonde hair adding faded glamour and titillating chat.

Whether it’s Country and Western or karaoke time, the evening is when the locals really come out of their cages. So beware, as you may get twirled around the floor to Sweet Home Alabama by Buffalo Bill on your way to the loo. Or be given the latest gossip on who’s seeing who by another complete stranger, when you only went up to the table to scoff the free scotch eggs and crisps. Yet Maggie becomes a best mate after just an hour, even though she’s a couple of generations older. Age, fashion and music taste mean nothing here, as everyone’s welcome and encouraged to shake their tail feathers. Carolyn Evans

Want to read more from Carolyn? Check out 'The chronicles of an average mind' at her MySpace page.

2008-06-27T12:22:00.001Z

DISCOVER WHAT MAKES THE PERFECT PINT
AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION OF GREAT BRITAIN

The great British pint - ever wondered how to make the best beer or the most spectacular stout? On Wednesday July 16 2008 from 7pm the brilliant brewers from O’Hanlons Brewing Company join forces with the super scientists from the Royal Institution to uncover the science behind the perfect pint, revealing all with a tasting session.

Featured beers include the Yellowhammer a mild gold beer with a zesty pineapple and banana fruitiness; the Royal Oak, a copper-coloured premium ale and Dry Stout, a luscious crossover stout.

The event is hosted by award-winning British beer writer and journalist Adrian Tierney-Jones, with beers proved by O’Hanlons Brewing Company and expert insight provided by its chief brewer Alex Bell.

Event details
The science of beer
Guest speakers: Alex Bell and Adrian Tierney-Jones
Wednesday 16 July 2008
7.00pm-9.00pm
The Royal Institution of Great Britain, 21 Albemarle Street, London. W1S 4BS
ri@ri.ac.uk
Tickets cost £8 standard, £6 concessions, £4 RI Members.
For more information and to book tickets, visit www.rigb.org or call 020 7409 2992

2008-06-16T09:15:00.002Z

Join Save the Boozer's Facebook group Show your support and stay in the loop by joining the rather popular STB Facebook group. Once you're there, it'd be great to hear about your favourite boozer characters - insane landlord/landlady? Brilliant boozer band (of the old-school variety)? Legendary local? All suggestions most welcome. Post them up on the wall, or email me to me.

2008-06-15T17:51:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.17

How does Mystery David's favourite pub say no to gastro? Hang on, and he'll tell you as he nominates it for the 'authentic pub fayre'award

The Victoria Inn, Hill Rise, Richmond, Surrey

"Pork scratchings - of course! Bacon fries but I haven't seen the scampie ones for ages. And the holy trinity of crisp flavours - ready salted, salt & vinegar and cheese & onion. Er, that's it."

2008-06-08T17:13:00.001Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.16

Jeanne R can't get enough of the music in her local. Here's why she's nominating it for the 'ultimate jukebox' award (even though it doesn't have a jukebox... ah the good old fashioned wireless, ah Magic FM...)

The Victoria, Pages Walk, Bermondsey, London

"There's no jukebox, but on Fridays there's a DJ and ABBA is not neglected, nor is Van Halen. One night I was startled to find upon arrival that they were listening to a World Music station. I puzzled over this strange turn of events for several songs before the bartender started moaning about not knowing how to change the station. Apparently the whole bar had been suffering in agony for hours."

2008-06-07T17:12:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.15

The fragrant Nicky Getgood, a leading light in the mission to uncover Birmingham's best spots for getting pissed, dedicated an entire post on her rather witty blog The Getgood Guide to listing Digbeth's best/worst/most terrifying boozers (several of which she has also nominated for awards). But it seemed a shame to split them up - so here you go, the full story as it first appeard, in all its Black Country glory...

"On Saturday The Guardian featured Kate Burt’s blog Save The Boozer, dedicated to pubs that offer ‘a slice of real British life, where real people still drink. Think dodgy jukeboxes, patterned carpet, photos of the Queen Mum pulling a pint…’

Save The Boozer rewards the best of Britain with STB Awards, which has categories such as The Ultimate Jukebox, The Terrifying Pub and The Sticky Carpet. What I love about Digbeth is it’s a great cluster of these places. For our last birthday me and Tone did a Digbeth Pub Crawl and fitting them all in was a difficult job, we even had to cull The Old Crown from our list. Digbeth should win an award in its own right. Sticky Village. Or something like that.

Anyway, here we are – the ten best boozers in Digbeth:

1. The Spotted Dog

Had to come first by virtue of its rebel landlord John Tighe and his fight against the Noise Abatement Order. John is assisted by his harem of beautiful young barmaids, all carefully chosen to appease the older male clientele. The bar feels as homely as your living room whilst the spacious back garden hosts family parties and the like. It also has a great live music line-up. I never could have imagined The Pogues sung in the style of Johnny Cash by a guy with a head like a baked bean, but now I know. Dir-ty-old-tow-nnn…..

2. The Lamp Tavern

A compact and cosy pub with a lot of lamps. This was the culmination of me and Tone’s pub crawl and we didn’t get out until sunrise. Landlord Eddie seemed to be in a race with us to drink the stock dry. If he takes a shine to you he’ll invite you upstairs to “share the cot”. I somehow resisted. The Lamp Tavern is the regular home of Friction Arts’ Pub Conversations.

3. The Big Bull’s Head

Had to miss this off the pub crawl because a fight broke out in the back bar. As I’ve mentioned before, does great grub for very reasonable prices. I’m not sure if they still do it, but they used to have a He Man’s Grill that consisted of what seemed to be a plate of fried meat (steak, sausage, bacon, etc.) with a separate bowl of chips and beans. Typing about it makes my mouth water with hunger and nausea at the same time.

4. The White Swan

A lovely pub with a large, long front bar and nice back lounges, it’s one of the few older pubs where recent ‘improvements’ have not meant the opposite. The last time I was there in the evening following a Birmingham City home match so it was crowded with loudly slurred arguments, declarations of love and an elderly couple who, despite being very unsteady on their feet, were still managing to chew each other’s faces off. Who said romance was dead?

5. The Anchor

The place to go for real ale in Digbeth. A great big pub with four rooms surrounding the bar in the centre, so has lots of nooks and corners for drinking, chatting and snuggling, with a new outside patio for smoking.

6. The Woodsman

This one’s off the beaten track on the other side of Digbeth near the Millennium Point. When I was last there the traditional old pub style was wonderfully mismatched by a DJ playing deafening, thumping hard house. I didn’t know whether to buy a round or get the pills in.

7. Cleary’s

Bit of an obituary this, as it sadly closed in January. A small and snug place on Cheapside. Every weekend it would have a bad loud disco for young ones to get down and get off to, which was inevitably popular.

8. The Adam and Eve

Another good live music venue with bands that range from blues to rock to acoustic. Visit their website if only to play their keyboard of a navigation bar. Kept me amused for hours.

9. The Market Tavern

Yet another obituary and proof that Save The Boozer really has its work cut out in trying to save ‘a fast disappearing breed’. Rumour has it the owners plan to turn this former lively punk venue into a gastro pub. Which is a pity, as it would have been a worthy contender for Boozer Bogs of the Year Award. Not to put too fine a point on it, they fucking stank.

10. The Fountain Inn

Not one of my haunts as this old man’s drinking hole comes under the category Terrifying Pub. But makes the list thanks to West Midlands Police, who mistook it for another The Fountain Inn, Wrentham Street, ‘one of Birmingham’s busiest gay bars catering to skins, bears, daddies, scallies and leather & denim guys’. I’d love to have been there when the police raided The Fountain Inn, Cheapside and accused the Irish bar of dealing in drugs and gay porn. Feckin’ ace."

Go Nicky.

2008-06-01T16:55:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.14

Mystery David's at it again. This time nominating his local for the 'ultimate jukebox' award. Except that it doesn't have a jukebox. I'm not sure it counts as a nomination, but you have to love a pub that embraces the European Union of TV.

The Victoria Inn, Hill Rise, Richmond, Surrey

"No jukebox but they do show the occasional premiership match on the TV via the Greek satellite
channel."

2008-06-01T16:43:00.001Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.13

Jeanne R puts her local forward for the stylish 'sticky carpet' award, which is all about deliciously divey decor

The Victoria, Pages Walk, Bermondsey, London

"The sticky carpet is gone, but it's more than made up for by the single tiny randomly placed mirror ball hanging incongruously from the ceiling in this classic Victorian pub. Bonus points for the plaque proudly displayed next to the ladies' room that says "Pub of the Year - 1972."

2008-06-01T16:42:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.12

Nominated for 'man walks into a bar' award by Anna B from Bath

Hat & Feathers
At the now-turned-into-a-trendy-steakhouse Hat and Feathers in Bath a Rasta once came up and started aggressively flirting with me. When I said I would like some peace because I was on my first night out after having a baby he stood up and started shouting at me for not being at home breastfeeding like women should. Hilarious.

2008-05-30T15:24:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no 11

It's George S from Brighton again, with his nomination for 'boozer of the year' award

The Black Horse, in Montague Place, Brighton

"A landlord who is so drunk he doesn't care. Staff drunk. Prices that vary according to if you're an outsider, or whether there's money in the till. Long may it remain the same."

2008-05-30T15:23:00.001Z

STB's favourite nominations no... 10

Jeanne R larges up her much-loved local landlord Pat for the 'legendary landlord' award

The Victoria Inn, Pages Walk, Bermondsey, London

"Pat is the nicest, most accomodating and welcoming pub landlord I've ever met. He's always sitting at a table with strangers from all over the world who have somehow ended up in the Vic. He's also a great storyteller and I have spent many hours at the bar just giggling at his interaction with his customers. His dedication to his boozer is infectious."

2008-05-28T15:18:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.9

Sonia's nomination for the 'boozer of the year award'

Quinns, Camden, London

"An amazing throw back to how pubs must have looked/felt like as little as 40 years ago - lots of biddies sitting around having a shandy and a gossip, great pub games and pints are amazingly cheap. It's as an old man pub as they come."

2008-05-25T15:17:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.8

Jeanne R waxes lyrical (and does it with brilliant brevity) on the culinary delights of her local, in aid of the 'authentic pub fayre' award

"Two words: pork scratchings. Mr. Porky is stripped bare nightly. There is also a lunch menu that would give Gordon Ramsay hives."

2008-05-25T15:12:00.000Z

STB REVIEW: The Prince George, Parkholme Road, London E8

Map

The Prince George is a swinger with a fondness for pickled eggs. It tells you on its myspace page, where you get to meet its friends like ‘art fag’ and ‘Bad Idea magazine’. The virtual Prince George is pretty similar to the one in real life, which you’ll find down a pleasant residential street in Dalston. It’s middle-class and arty with a penchant for irony. You can buy pickled eggs and cockles in branded jars, champagne and cloudy cider for £3.40 a pint. Plus the gents are ‘Kim and Aggie clean’.

Yet the real irony is, it’s The Prince George’s middle-class suburban-ness that makes it interesting. Without it, it’d be just like any pub in down-the-road Shoreditch, draped with arty-farty student-types and underground magazine editors. Running around in between the vintage jeans, polka dots and hand-stitched trousers are 2 year-olds with cheeky, flushed faces playing ‘it.’ And amongst the serious fringes, hats and beards are local Dads with comical comb-overs.

The jukebox is another draw. It’s loaded up with such a mixture of favourite tracks that it can keep even this eclectic crowd happy. There’s The Rolling Stones for the Dads, Motown and Elvis for the Mums, and ska and The Stone Roses for the kids.

It’s a handy place to come on a Friday night in the summer, as you actually get to sit down thanks to there being loads of seats outside and in. Also, when the pub fills up the pool room at the back acts like a shed for the Dads, and they all congregate there to potter around the pool table. While Mum finishes her sparking wine and leaves to cook supper on the Aga.

A notice board on the wall is littered with letters from the Pollution Control Officer at Hackney Council responding to a complaint about loud voices and shouting from people leaving the pub after 11pm. Unfortunately, that’s the price you pay for such an interesting mix of colourful arty-types and rare suburban-ness in Dalston. CAROLYN EVANS

2008-05-18T15:09:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.8

Mystery David's nomination for 'Legendary Landlady Award'

The Victoria Inn, Hill Rise, Richmond, Surrey

Landladies and sisters Denise and Lorraine run this pub like a branch of the social services. Always willing to dispense advice to the punters about their lifestyles. Friendly and warm but not adverse laying down the law - the "no sleeping" rule is is rigorously enforced.

2008-05-15T14:30:00.000Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.7

Jeanne Robertson from London's entry for the 'boozer of the year award'

The Victoria, Pages Walk, Bermondsey, London

"The Victoria is a semi-secret haven hidden on a back street in Bermondsey amongst several industrial commercial properties - a plumbing center and some places that make big metal things - and is directly across from the only other gathering place on the street, a mosque. If it were one street over it would probably be crowded every night.

Its terrible location is great: I sometimes have the place all to myself - though it's not so great for the landlord, obviously. Nevertheless, Pat is always friendly and full of great stories; the locals are loyal and full of character and the pub itself is a great unrefurbished Victorian.

But the strongest selling point is the feeling that you've walked into an episode of Fawlty Towers. You never know what you're going to get when you set off for the Vic - it could be just you, it could be a quiet, friendly handful of locals or the whole place could be so packed that you can't get in the doors and there are knickers hanging from the ceiling fan (rare, and the reason, Pat says, that he doesn't often accomodate hen nights).

When I moved to London I stayed in Bermondsey temporarily and was planning to move somewhere else but ended up staying here so I could live close to the Vic. I now live about a five minute walk away and although my liver is hanging on by a thread, I have found old boozer Nirvana.."

2008-05-13T21:37:00.007Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.6

Each week (or sometimes even each day, when there are enough hours in it) STB picks one of your best nominations for the awards and posts it for all to share. This time, nominated for several awards, but we'll put one up at a time so you can savour them, is The Black Horse, in Montague Place, Brighton. And today here is why it should win 'authentic pub fayre of the year' award according to George S from Brighton

"How does your boozer say no to gastro?" we asked.
George explained succinctly: "Landlord thought jelly babies sold well. Only because staff were putting them in their free vodka."

2008-05-12T09:03:00.001Z

Save the Boozer makes it into the Guardian Guide's internet guide

And, naturally, the site was pick of the page... Here's a snippet of what the marvellous Johnny Dee had to say...

"...The idea is to preserve the dying breed of old-men's pubs under threat and recommend those worthy of The Sticky Carpet Award. To qualify pubs must have at least some of the following: patterned carpets balding in random areas, scampi fries and pork scratchings, a photo of the Queen Mum pulling a pint, old Irish geezers chatting up the barmaids, a dartboard with at least one number missing, a back room that can be hired for wakes and a dodgy jukebox..."

2008-05-11T17:00:00.001Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.5

The Victoria Inn, Hill Rise, Richmond, Surrey

David is a man of mystery - but we think he lives in Richmond. As such, he's nominating what may well be his local for the 'sticky carpet' award, the winner of which will bear all the glorious hallmarks of authentic boozer style: think cartoons of the locals in a frame by the loos, nicotine-stained ceilings, garish fruit machines, a sign behind the bar saying 'you don't have to be mad to work here...' And to think these new fangled gastrocities prefer wooden floors, vases of lilies and Osborne and Little wallpaper.

"The brownish carpet has seen some wear as has the upholstery. The walls are lined with Kitsch Victoria prints (milkmaids and peasants) but the shelves hold real Victorian books."

2008-05-05T20:04:00.004Z

Thanks for the lovely STB plugs to:

Mansized - the place to go for all things man-friendly (news, footie, the verdict on Madge's latest, sharp suits and some freaky videos of some very wrong kangaroo stuff)

and...

Brighton's Best Pubs - which features almost everything you need to know about just about every single place you can get a drink in Brighton. All documented by The Pub Jury

2008-05-05T19:42:00.007Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.4

Nominated for 'best overall boozer' by Stephen Harrison from Chester...

The Spital Vaults, Chester

It's a Local Pub For Local People... and we'll have none of that riff raff in here!

This traditonal backstreet boozer is open every day come rain or shine 12pm till 12pm (and sometimes later). There's no gastro and it's basic but clean and tidy.

2008-04-21T21:09:00.005Z

STB's favourite nominations... no.3

Nominated for 'best overall boozer' by Kathryn Platt from the Isle of Man...

The Lion and Unicorn, Kentish Town

"The only place in Kentish Town where my dad will go for a 'proper' beer"

Meets every requirement and then some... sticky carpet, pork scratchings & scampi fries, dodgy jukebox, old Irish geezers chatting up the barmaids, fierce but nice barmaids, back room can be hired for wakes (last time I was in there - classic buffet with sausage rolls, scotch eggs, egg & cress baps...). The ultimate accolade though: it's the only place in Kentish Town that my dad will go for a 'proper' beer. One night he got so carried away with his love for the place that as we were leaving he made the grave error of adopting an Irish accent and bidding everyone 'Good Luck, Good Luck' as we were leaving... smiles, wiped, off, faces, breath, being, held.

2008-04-17T21:25:00.012Z

STB's favourite nominations... no. 2

Nominated by Johnny S from London for the 'overall best boozer' category...

The White Horse, aka Nellie's, in Beverley, East Yorkshire

"Show me a pub with consistent decor throughout and I'll show you a Wetherspoons”

The boozer of every year since 1985 when I first visited it as a scarce-bearded 15 year-old, is The White Horse, aka Nellie's, in Beverley, East Yorkshire. Of course, like all the best pubs people chunter on about, I rarely actually go there, although that's only because I no longer live there and I only go back home to my parents' about once a year.

But unlike those pubs that people never go to, then moan about being turned into Fridge Magnet & Firkins, this one has not been updated since about 1274 (no really, it's seriously mediaeval), apart from a pool room being stuck on the back with a juke box full of heavy metal and rancid trance, all of which in itself gives it that schizophrenic character that all great pubs tend to have. Show me a pub with consistent decor throughout and I'll show you a Wetherspoons.

The floors are about as flat as The Himalayas, with tables that last saw service in your granny's kitchen in 1968. Plus for absolutely no reason there are things like weighing scales that don't work, hooks on the ceiling and some sort of ancient linen press littered around. It's a gas lit pub, which would normally be some toe-curling affectation, but you get the feeling it's only because they've never wanted to spend the money updating it. And that's just fine because it's not as if they're charging you much to drink here. Like all Sam Smiths pubs, it's so cheap that it makes you want to storm into every other pub in town, Roger Cook-like, with a furry microphone on a stick asking 'How can you justify selling a pint of lager for more than £1.84?'

Back in the '80s it was the pub where all the under-age drinkers would go, because you could get the oldest one to buy a round of cider and blackcurrants and then hide in one of the dimly lit caverns elsewhere in the pub. These days no such illegality is permitted of course, but it's still frequented by a scattering of ne'er do wells, punks, goths, hippies, folkies, and loafers who are gradually getting older with nowhere else to go. There are less young people in here now than there used to be. Good. Decent boozers are wasted on the young.

It is now one of the best known pubs in Yorkshire, but that hasn't damaged the feel of the place in any way. Many of the regulars are still people you saw 20 years ago, and the prices haven't changed much either.

2008-04-14T21:54:00.015Z

STB's favourite nominations... no. 1

Anna B from Bath's entry for the 'terrifying pub award'...

The Livingstone, Oldfield Park, Bath

"You never see anyone go in or out. It is eerily quiet. The exterior is strangely reminiscent of a public convenience, being made almost entirely out of mint green opaque glass bricks – dating from way back before such things were fashionable. You can’t see in OR, I imagine, out. In the summer, rows of shirtless fat-necked labourers and the terminally unemployed (and their pitbulls) sit joylessly on the pavement outside on straight backed chairs, with their legs spread wide. Everything about it is weird. Whatever goes on in there there’s no way it’s just boozing."

2008-04-11T19:12:00.007Z

WE'VE JUST GONE NATIONAL!
So STB desperately needs your help to get the rest of the country's brilliant boozers represented on the list below. To get involved, simply email a photo and some details of a beloved old drinking hole over – and/or enter it for the STB Awards.

Not sure if your pub of choice qualifies? Have a nose here (and let me know if I've missed out any important old boozer credentials!).

YORKSHIRE

The White Horse, aka Nellie's, in Beverley, East Yorkshire

BATH

The Livingstone, Oldfield, Bath

BRIGHTON

The Black Horse, Montague Place, Brighton

BIRMINGHAM

The Spotted Dog, Digbeth
The Lamp Tavern, Digbeth
The Big Bull’s Head, Digbeth
The White Swan, Digbeth
The Anchor, Digbeth
The Woodsman, Digbeth
Cleary’s, Digbeth
The Adam and Eve, Digbeth
The Market Tavern, Digbeth
The Fountain Inn, Digbeth

LONDON
SOUTH
The Elm Park Tavern, Brixton
Nolan's, Vauxhall
The Effra, Brixton
The Gladstone, Vauxhall
The London to Brighton, Peckham
The Montague Arms, New Cross
The Trinity, Brixton
The Hermit's Cave, Camberwell

The Blythe Hill Tavern, Catford

The Victoria Inn, Hill Rise, Richmond, Surrey

The Victoria, Bermondsey

The Greyhound, Oval (coming soon)
EAST
The Palm Tree, Mile End Park
The Griffin, Shoreditch
The Owl and the Pussycat, EC2
The Pride of Spitalfields, E1

The Prince George, Dalston, E8

The Birdcage, E2
NORTH
The Wenlock Arms, N1
Calthorp Arms, WC1

The Sir Richard Steele, Haverstock Hill, N1
(coming soon)
Lord Southampton, Grafton Terrace NW5
(coming soon)
The Boot, WC1H
Skinner's Arms, WC1
(coming soon)
Lord John Russell, Bloomsbury
(coming soon)
WEST
The Uxbridge Arms, Notting Hill
The Chancellor's, Hammersmith
The Cock & Bottle, near Westbourne Grove
(coming soon)
CENTRAL
The Crown and Cushion, Westminster
(coming soon)
The White Horse, Rupert St, W1
(coming soon)
The Angel, St Giles High St, W1
(coming soon)

2008-04-11T08:37:00.000Z

Blythe Hill Tavern, 319 Stanstead Road, London SE6

Tel: 020 8690 5176

Map

If there were a God and were they to produce a blueprint on how to run a local pub, then the result would surely be the Blythe Hill Tavern.

There are three cosy bars (with open fires in winter) that possess that dark, pubby feel that makes you want to settle down and get ensconced for the evening.

The ‘Guvnor’ is Con, an Irishman – though it’s nothing like those cod-Irish chains with bloody bicycles and trumpets hanging from the ceiling. Although, there is a lot of golf memorabilia (Con and friends are keen golfers).

Here are the fastest bar-staff in London and they will surprise you sometimes by bringing the drinks to your table, Irish-style, making you feel a little bit special while washing down your peanuts with a near-perfect Guinness.

This is the place to witness the fanatically fierce rivalry between Irish counties when groups of vocal fans decked out in full colours watch the big Gaelic football or hurley matches on Setanta.

But there’s another fierce rivalry on Thursday evenings when a changing assortment of eccentric, competitive musicians gather for a regular jamming session of Irish music. The players run a critical eye and ear over their colleagues’ performance and may have a little bitch from time to time.

Even if you don’t know your uillean from your elbow, or the difference between a bodhran or a banjo, take a break from your conversation now and again to nod appreciatively. It's impossible not to tap your feet to the diddly-diddly music. Liam Curran

2008-04-10T17:21:00.001Z

YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN A PROPER BOOZER WHEN...

To be featured in this blog, nominated drinking establishments may have to feature some of the following credentials

‘Traditional Fayre' The closest it gets to exotic is a bag of those scampi pyramids, or peanuts – preferably displayed on a cheeky cardboard photograph of a semi-naked girl with soft-focus hair.

Old people Where would this guy drink if you stripped the floors of his local, hired a house DJ and did away with draft beer? Criminal.

Bad bathrooms Traditionally signposted by a black and white plastic sign depicting a small, round-bellied boy peeing sprinklingly into a chamber pot - or a little girl in a big skirt for the ladies – all proper pubs have deeply un-voguish loos, scented with a plethora of industrial-strength white plastic air-freshening devices.

Proper alcoholics Not your young and trendily-attired pretenders who think that a spot of binge-drinking earns them the title of ‘alcoholic’, but the vein-faced guy leaning against the bar to stop his shakes or the balloon-nosed buffer in his never-been-washed Sunday best blazer, dribbling lasciviously at passers by from his vantage-point outside the women’s loos.

Artwork A sign behind the till cheerfully informing new staff that you ‘don’t have to be mad to work here – but it helps!’ is a nice touch. Though a photo of the Queen Mother pulling a pint or a framed cartoon drawing of the locals are also promising signs.

A microwave How else are you supposed to get the baked beans in your soft-skinned baked potato so perilously hot?

Music policy Traditionally provided by a jukebox filled with timeless classics like The Cutting Crew’s “(I Just) Died In Your Arms” and “Kayleigh” by Marillion...

Pot Collector A specifically employed, usually half-blind, geriatric geezer got in out of pity because the boss hates to think of him twiddling his thumbs in his hostel’s communal TV room round the corner.

Lock-ins The sign of an establishment that values its locals and rightfully scorns the addition of new or more upmarket passing trade. On a good night, those present will include: the lonely Irish pensioner glued to his bar-stool - and anyone who’ll listen to him moaning about his ex-wife; a young, tie-dyed couple who live in the squat across the road, drink cider and stroke one another’s face; and Gaynor, a middle-aged artist/poet with a penchant for ethnic fashion and G&Ts.

Landlord/landlady Whether ex Army Major with secret authority fetish and high blood pressure, or suburban, swinging matriarch with a Prozac habit, pub landlords and landladies, like memorable teachers, are all a bit odd. (nb. to anyone who remembers the Prince Albert's legendary Pat - pictured left – those were the days, weren't they?)

Tankards Hung behind the bar, ideally with select locals’ names engraved on them.

Entertainment Who says that fruit machines are tacky? Also acceptable are pool tables and darts boards, however table football is often a touch try-hard.

Pub Pet Chiefly, a cat or a dog. The pub cat is a spoiled, portly little tub of superiority. Unless you’re eating scampi pyramids. Pub dogs, on the other hand, whatever the breeding/lack of, invariably all maintain an unsettling expression of abject misery, never bark and do very little except scavange or sleep heavily under your table. The parrot is an acceptable, if eccentric, alternative.

Balding patterned carpet Though floorboards may be acceptable if blackened with age.

A saloon and a public bar
And one earns one's way into the saloon.

Got any more suggestions? Email them to: info@savetheboozer.com

2008-04-10T15:47:00.000Z

The Trinity Arms
45 Trinity Gardens, Brixton SW9 8DR
020 7274 4544
[map]

Do not fear the gollywogs atop the shelf above the bar, poised to break out into a politically incorrect animatronic light entertainment jamboree circa 1950. Do not fear, either, the purported NF past of this secluded boozer in Brixton’s only plaza. The urbane, metrosexual Brixtonite, hardened by running the gauntlet of the Living Dead on the high street twice a day, can forego their preconceptions about race and Lambeth’s chequered past when they settle down to a pint at the Trinity. As you claw your way through a barrage of whisky-faced bureaucrats from Lambeth Council pouring scorn on their colleagues in hushed voices, there’s an eerie sense of calm and comfort.

Even the insufferable South African bar staff can’t corrode the magic ring of Trinity’s crucible-shaped bar. The landlord is a wiry, stern but affable Irishman, possibly less suited to serving pints of lager to fat civil servants from the UK’s most controversial local authority than marauding down the Falls Road in a black bomber jacket carrying a Molotov cocktail. On horseback. His all-pervading beady eye always maintaining order (a recent birthday group was reprimanded on a Sunday afternoon for having too loud a conversation).

There is no music, only the sound of endless pints of Young’s being sucked down or the gruesome lament of a septaganarian clearing his lungs of 6o years of stout, asbestos and tar. Half great aunt’s living room, half Victorian boozer the pub itself is deceptively compact and sits but a crack-rock’s throw from Brixton’s high street in Trinity Square, providing a glimpse into this jaded suburb’s upmarket past.

Salient features: a dumb waiter; a fine selection of single-malts; beer gardens front and back; jaundice-yellow wallpaper; a healthy selection of roll-up smoking alcoholics brushing shoulders with braying media executives wearing suits with trainers.

But when the bell is rung to call time on the Judgement of Brixton Bar drinkers, there can only be one parting refrain: the Trinity is real. Real men with bad breath and real drink problems. Real ale and real estate chatter. Real celebrities and and real wankers tripping over each other. And faced with a parade of joyless style bars smelling of greed and vomit, you couldn’t wish for a more fitting sanctuary from the reality of Lambeth. Gary Weasel

2008-04-10T14:10:00.002Z

POWER TO
THE PUNTERS

Hurrah for London's Nell Gwynne! The pub had been under serious threat of closure but a punter petition, fuelled partly by a healthily outraged Facebook group, stopped the looming redevelopment in its tracks (for now, at least).

Read all about it at the Save the Nell Gwynne Facebook group.

While we're on the Facebook front, there are lots more pubs in danger - and several with accompanying support groups. Check out Save the Phene Arms (George Best's old haunt); Save the Prince of Wales, Suffolk and Save Fulham Boozers whose mission statement announces, succinctly, "No more flash bars full of wankers". Quite.

And while you're on a webcrawl - pop into Stonch's beer blog; he was the first to alert us to the Nell Gwynne's precarious position. Cheers Stonch!

2008-04-09T20:01:00.000Z

The best way to get your review or photographs of a beloved boozer published on the site is to enter it for the National Save the Boozer Awards . But if you don't fancy that - simply send me a review (max 300 words) about your favourite boozer by emailing me at: savetheboozer@kateburt.com..

2008-04-09T19:19:00.002Z

Categories
Boozer of the Year
Which pub are you nominating for overall Boozer of the Year – and why? If you'd like some inspiration about which of your chosen boozer's bounteous charms to big up to give it the best chance of winning this glittering competition, feel free to click HERE and take note of the all-important boozer credentials. (And feel free to email
me with any you'd like added to the list!).

Legendary landlord or landlady of the Year
From the large Scotsman who ran a favourite pub from my youth, and vacillated wildly between letting us get hammered on snakebite and blacks and shrieking humiliatingly “Get oot me fookin’ poob!” before we’d even got through the door, to the gone but never forgotten Pat (RIP), the Irish woman with the sweet smile who could have been your kindly gran – until last orders, when the full force of her steely, other-worldly stare would empty the place in seconds – the clue is in the word ‘legendary’. To do such a very special sort of a job, pub proprietors are, naturally, very special sorts of people.

Boozer bogs of the year award
Loo-roll holding dolls… unlikely collages… twee his ’n’ hers signs… choice graffiti, or pungently scented with Glade’s most intoxicating product… Your nominated loos need not be luxurious – they simply need to be special enough in whichever weird, wonderful or seedy way you fancy, to reflect the character of a typical STB boozer.

Authentic pub fayre of the year award
From pickled eggs to soft-focus topless ladies dispensing peanuts and black pudding butties to black forest gateaux (straight from Iceland) – pleasing pub food doesn’t have to be trendy. Think of this award as the anti-Michelin star of the catering world.

The sticky carpet award
A particularly spectacular swirly carpet? A luscious lived-in feel? A no-nonsense just-gimme-a-beer-dammit utilitarian vibe? Strange signage? Caricatures of the regulars in a frame? Fishtanks? Flying ducks? Whatever makes you feel at home in your boozer – share it here.

The ultimate jukebox award
Don’t you just love the way that a proper pub jukebox just mixes things up with anarchic abandon? Where else – apart, perhaps, from at a very good wedding reception – could you hear Lindisfarne, Foreigner, Bowie, Oasis, Supergrass and Foster & Allen in one sitting? Where is your favourite pub jukebox and what are its choicest offerings?

The terrifying pub award
You know those pubs you walk into and immediately want to walk out of… only you’re too scared to move? The pub where you’re greeted with a vortex of menacing silence, and three pairs of eyes that swivel from their copies of The Sun to assess just how out of place you look – well, four pairs if you include Saddam the pitbull. And yet, especially when you really need a drink at 11am, it’s the best place to be; soon, amid the intrusive electronic chirrups from the fruit machines, the balefaced regulars and blaring racing commentary – you and your dubious behaviour will almost disappear. Which sometimes is just what’s required.

The ‘man walks into a pub’ award
This award is all about celebrating the essence of what makes a brilliant boozer: the people who drink in it. So nominate this pub based on the best, most touching, funniest or plain weirdest thing you’ve seen, heard or encountered in said boozer. I once had a lovely chap recount his entire life story to me via the medium of song, while his friend illustrated salient points in dance-moves behind him. Another time, a terrifying middle-aged crustie with dreadlocks down to his knees and a voice like Lloyd Grossman took umbrage when I noted that he’d spilt his beer on my shoes by screeching at me: “I bet you think you’re Madonna, dooooon’t you?” Now common parlance round my parts when someone’s getting a bit too feisty.

DISCLAIMER: "I hereby grant to author of Save the Boozer the right to create, reproduce, display, and disseminate worldwide and in perpetuity, in any traditional or electronic media format, my photograph(s) and/or text submitted. Furthermore, I grant the authors and other organizations allowed by the authors the unconditional rights to use these images and text, in whole or in part, in partnerships with commercial entities, which may include, but are not limited to, the use of the image(s) and text in advertisements in any media, including on commercial products. I confirm that these images and text were submitted with my knowledge and consent. I also confirm that the images are mine to offer to SaveTheBoozer.blogspot.com in such a manner. In return, the author of Save the Boozer will include an acknowledgement to me each time these images or text are used. If I wish my name to be withheld from such an acknowledgement, I will specify this clearly to the authors at time of submission of the materials."

2008-04-07T17:31:00.000Z

ALEHOUSE
ROCK

Bath-based writer, Anna Britten,
embarks upon The Great Bath Pub Crawl

If you thought a Saturday night in Bath today was lairy, you should have seen it in 1750. People drank beer from sunrise to sunset because drinking water could kill. The city was a fraction of its current size, yet had 150 pubs. Most of these establishments have now vanished into thin air – leaving scarring on the ground, mysterious bricked-up doorways – or turned into gift shops, pizza joints, and chain pubs. They are the ghosts of dens of iniquity that would make Yates’ Wine Lodge look like Chequers. “We’re not going to be seeing genteel Bath tonight,” promises Andrew Swift, kicking off The Great Bath Pub Crawl outside Lambrettas.

Leading us across Orange Grove, he feeds us the first of countless fascinating stories, explaining that, after the dissolution of the monasteries, pubs were built hard up against the Abbey. They nestled in the buttresses and cheekily appropriated its walls as part of their own structure. Gin trumping God. When these pubs were demolished, the Temperance Society erected the Rebecca Fountain, whose pious inscription reads “Water is best.”

This is just one example of how Andrew Swift and Kirsten Elliott – both in their guided ‘crawl’ and books about local boozer history – illuminate the corners of a town you thought you knew inside out. After tonight, Venue will never again walk past the Moon & Sixpence’s courtyard, or the dustbin-filled back yard of the Crystal Rooms amusement arcade, without imagining a coach-and-horses galloping in on a dark, rainy night, the coachman misjudging the height of the entrance arch and decapitating himself. Or whizz past the unlovely carpet shop on the London Road mini-roundabout without thinking how much nicer it must have looked as village pub.

Outside Bath’s smallest alehouse (the Volunteer Rifleman’s Arms) Andrew enquires whether anyone knows what ‘freehouse’ means. An Australian tourist rather sweetly wonders if it might mean a pub in which you can drink for free. We don’t test this theory at our ale stop in the unspoilt Old Green Tree but she doesn’t seem to mind exchanging cash for her half pint of Otter.

Back outside and Andrew regales us with the tale of how Charles Dickens ended up supping at the Saracen’s Head. Turns out the fledgling novelist couldn’t find a room at any of the more salubrious inns so had to lower himself to a horsehandler’s pub: cue the 19th century equivalent of an “I’ll have a Babycham” moment. Imagine Salman Rushdie having to take his refreshment at All Bar One. “I think,” says Andrew, “Jane Austen’s hatred of Bath pales into insignificance compared to Charles Dickens’s.”

Other tales make you want to found the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pubs. We learn how the arrival of the railway devastated the coaching inn business, leading to the decline of the pub trade – damn that Brunel fellow. We rage against the senseless practice of changing traditional pub names to silly new ones. We shake our heads sorrowfully over the Hilton – for whom at least six pubs, one of them visited by Dr Johnson, were sacrificed in the 50s and 60s.

We finish in the coffin-shaped (its creator was an undertaker) Star Inn – a pub close to Bathonian hearts ever since it was built in the 16th century for workers constructing the Paragon. Not only for its Bass from the jug, complimentary snuff and bar snacks, outlawing of games machines, and the fact it’s home to Bath’s own Abbey Ales but also for its plucky history – it withstood serious brewery aggro in the 1990s to remain independent.

So what motivates Andrew to step out every evening and educate punters about haunts like this? “I like sharing my passion,” he shrugs. “And hey – I’m in the pub.”

The Great Bath Pub Crawl starts at 8pm every night from outside Lambrettas Bar, North Parade, Bath and lasts approx 2 hours. Cost: £5. Stops are made at 2-3 pubs en route but drinks are not included. Ffi: (01225) 310364/07734 289450 or info@greatbathpubcrawl.com

Ten Things You Didn’t Know About Bath Pubs
1) Death by being boiled in beer was surprisingly common in the 18th century – the brewing process produced carbon monoxide which caused workers to faint and fall into the giant vats.

2) An elephant once staged a lie-down protest on Lansdown Hill, while on his way to do a menagerie show at a Walcot Street pub.

3) Until clean drinking water became generally available in the 19th century, even children drank beer.

4) 19th century politicians used to bribe voters with free booze.

5) In 1750 there were 150 pubs in Bath – one for every 67 people.

6) The number of pubs in Bath has fallen by over a third since World
War Two.

7) Hops were not used for brewing in England until the 14th century.

8) King Edgar, crowned in Bath Abbey in AD973, was the first monarch to attempt to regulate alcohol consumption.

9) A century ago over 30 Bath pubs still brewed their own beer.

10) The biggest brewery in the West once stood where The Podium is.

GET INVOLVED
Know any great boozers in Bath? Tell me about them at: kate@savetheboozer.com

2008-04-03T20:04:00.007Z

AWARDS NOMINATION FORM

You don't need to fill in the whole form – just the bits that inspire you! Oh, and if you've got any photos - even ones taken on your phone - do send them in too. It all helps...

Email Address:
Name:
Mobile number: (in case I need more details before uploading your incisive comments/dazzling wit)
BOOZER OF THE YEAR: Which pub are you nominating for overall Boozer of the Year – and why? Please outline its qualifying credentials (see link above).
LEGENDARY LANDLORD OR LANDLADY OF THE YEAR: Tell me all about the special publican in your life
BOOZER BOGS OF THE YEAR: Basic, bizarre or beautifully perfumed - what gives them that 'boozer' edge?
AUTHENTIC PUB FAYRE OF THE YEAR: How does your boozer say no to gastro?
THE STICKY CARPET AWARD: What are the components of your boozer's unique style statement?
THE ULTIMATE JUKEBOX AWARD: What makes your boozer's soundtrack so special - and what are the highlights and loveable lowlights?
THE TERRIFYING PUB AWARD: Tell us about that no-go drinking zone that has a little place in your heart...
THE 'MAN WALKS INTO A PUB' AWARD: A boozer's not a boozer without a good story. Recount your best encounter, craziest conversation or favourite freak...
Please confirm that you have read the disclaimer on the 'About the Awards' page, and are happy for me to publish and edit your comments where necessary	Yep Eh?

create form

2008-04-03T18:29:00.001Z

Nylon tracksuits and leather shoes
In today's Shortlist, Sam Delaney airs his love/hate relationship with "the pub that time forgot: an ugly, scary place with about 80 blaring fruit machines, six jumbo TV screens showing sporting events and a jukebox that plays Wind It Up by The Prodigy on rotate"... and where the dress code is "nylon tracksuit bottoms with leather lace-up shoes". Brilliant. Don't forget to vote for 'Scariest Pub' in the National Save the Boozer Awards

2008-04-02T21:54:00.007Z

Save the boozer – about the awards

Nominate a beloved pub and - if it's picked to be
'boozer of the month' you could win one of several
genuinely secondhand pub jukebox compilation CDs!

Categories For details click here
You are welcome to enter as many - or as few - pubs for as many - or few - categories as you like. If you want to enter a pub for each and every one - hurrah! - but don't by any means feel you have to.

Nomination form Click HERE
Each month, the site will feature a Boozer of the Month, plucked from the best, wittiest, or most downright bizarre of your nominations. So don’t forget to include your contact details in case I need some more information (don’t worry, if you don’t want your name revealed, it won’t be). To submit your nominations, simply click on the link above.

Closing date TBA

2008-04-02T19:43:00.022Z

The first ever national Save the Boozer awards

is YOUR local a winner?

Yes, it’s true – and VERY exciting. Save the Boozer is hosting its very own national awards event – and we need YOU to help us celebrate everything brilliant about old-school urban pubs. There are all sorts of categories to vote in, from ‘most legendary landlord or landlady’ to ‘authentic pub fayre’ (make mine a bag of pork scratchings, please) and that illustrious interiors accolade: the ‘sticky carpet award’. Could you help to make your beloved local (in)famous? Now’s your chance to try. To enter, click HERE

2008-04-02T18:38:00.000Z

Local Heroes
The Guardian reports on how one village has rallied round to save
its beloved boozer

2008-04-02T17:50:00.000Z

Save the boozer – about the awards

First – to make sure that the boozer you’re planning to nominate qualifies for entry into this glittering competition, please click HERE and take note of the all-important boozer credentials.

Each month, the site will feature a Boozer of the Month, plucked from the best, wittiest, or most downright bizarre of your nominations. So don’t forget to include your contact details in case I need some more information (don’t worry, if you don’t want your name revealed, it won’t be). To submit your nominations, simply copy and paste the text below into an email, fill in the gaps, and send it to: savetheboozer@kateburt.com

Categories
Boozer of the Year
Which pub are you nominating for overall Boozer of the Year – and why?

If you haven't already, please outline its qualifying credentials (please, please go wild – the credentials list on the site is just for starters. In fact, I’d love to add some more to the list… so inspire me!)

Legendary landlord or landlady of the Year
From the large Scotsman who ran a favourite pub from my youth, and vacillated wildly between letting us get hammered on snakebite and blacks and shrieking humiliatingly “Get oot me fookin’ poob!” before we’d even got through the door, to the gone but never forgotten Pat (RIP), the Irish woman with the sweet smile who could have been your kindly gran – until last orders, when the full force of her steely, other-worldly stare would empty the place in seconds – the clue is in the word ‘legendary’. To do such a very special sort of a job, pub proprietors are, naturally, very special sorts of people. Nominate one!

Boozer bogs of the year award
Loo-roll holding dolls… unlikely collages… twee his ’n’ hers signs… choice graffiti, or pungently scented with Glade’s most intoxicating product… Your nominated loos need not be luxurious – they simply need to be special enough in whichever weird, wonderful or seedy way you fancy, to reflect the character of a typical STB boozer.

Authentic pub fayre of the year award
From pickled eggs to soft-focus topless ladies dispensing peanuts and black pudding butties to black forest gateaux (straight from Iceland) – pleasing pub food doesn’t have to be trendy. Think of this award as the anti-Michelin star of the catering world.

The sticky carpet award
A particularly spectacular swirly carpet? A luscious lived-in feel? A no-nonsense just-gimme-a-beer-dammit utilitarian vibe? Strange signage? Caricatures of the regulars in a frame? Fishtanks? Flying ducks? Whatever makes you feel at home in your boozer – share it here.

The ultimate jukebox award
Don’t you just love the way that a proper pub jukebox just mixes things up with anarchic abandon? Where else – apart, perhaps, from at a very good wedding reception – could you hear Lindisfarne, Foreigner, Bowie, Oasis, Supergrass and Foster & Allen in one sitting? Where is your favourite pub jukebox and what are its choicest offerings?

The ‘man walks into a pub’ award
This award is all about celebrating the essence of what makes a brilliant boozer: the people who drink in it. So nominate this pub based on the best, most touching, funniest or plain weirdest thing you’ve seen, heard or encountered in said boozer. I once had a lovely chap recount his entire life story to me via the medium of song, while his friend illustrated salient points in dance-moves behind him. Another time, a terrifying middle-aged crustie with dreadlocks down to his knees and a voice like Lloyd Grossman took umbrage when I noted that he’d spilt his beer on my shoes by screeching at me: “I bet you think you’re Madonna, dooooon’t you?” Now common parlance round my parts when someone’s getting a bit too feisty.

The science bits
For your comments to be used, I might need to call you to get a few more details. Of course I'll also want to credit you for your dazzling wit and keen observation (though if you don’t want your name published – that’s no problem). But it would be ace if you could let me know:
Your name:
Your email:
Your phone number:

DISCLAIMER: "I hereby grant to author of Save the Boozer the right to create, reproduce, display, and disseminate worldwide and in perpetuity, in any traditional or electronic media format, my photograph(s) and/or text submitted. Furthermore, I grant the authors and other organizations allowed by the authors the unconditional rights to use these images and text, in whole or in part, in partnerships with commercial entities, which may include, but are not limited to, the use of the image(s) and text in advertisements in any media, including on commercial products. I confirm that these images and text were submitted with my knowledge and consent. I also confirm that the images are mine to offer to SaveTheBoozer.blogspot.com in such a manner. In return, the author of Save the Boozer will include an acknowledgement to me each time these images or text are used. If I wish my name to be withheld from such an acknowledgement, I will specify this clearly to the authors at time of submission of the materials."

2008-04-02T14:32:00.019Z

BOOZER NEWS

Wednesday April 9, 2008
HOW THE PUB BUBBLE BURST
Read the depressing analysis of the state of British pubs in the Guardian here. Illustrated by a rather tragic image of London's derelict Intrepid Fox, a one-time legendary goth hang-out that's bizarrely been relocated to just behind Tottenham Court Road.

Thursday April 3, 2008
LOVE YOUR LOCAL ONLY GOES SO FAR
In today's Shortlist, Sam Delaney discusses his love/hate relationship with "the pub that time forgot: an ugly, scary place with about 80 blaring fruit machines, six jumbo TV screens showing sporting events on full volume and a jukebox that plays Wind It Up by The Prodigy on rotate"... and where the dress code is "nylon tracksuit bottoms combined with leather lace-up shoes". Brilliant. Don't forget to vote for 'Scariest Pub' in the National Save the Boozer Awards

Wednesday April 2, 2008 Local Heroes The Guardian reports on how one village has rallied round to save its beloved boozer

Tuesday April 1, 2008 EU've gone too far Harriet, love The Sun rages rather amusingly at Harriet Harmen's proposed ban on punters calling barmaids 'love' or 'duckie'

Click here for archived news stories

2008-04-01T18:46:00.000Z

EU've gone too far Harriet, love
The Sun rages rather amusingly at Harriet Harmen's proposed ban on punters calling barmaids 'love' or 'duckie'

2008-03-31T19:51:00.000Z

'Boozer Bus' to save Irish pubs an inspiring story from the Guardian

'Drinking and Diving in the Five Boroughs' by Wendy Mitchell See how they do boozers in NYC

Urban pubs in danger The Campaign for Real Ale's scary survey

'Licensed to Sell: The History and Heritage of the Public House' by Geoffrey K Brandwood A visual feast of fabulous pub stuff

'Man Walks into a Pub: A Sociable History of Beer' by Pete Brown Genius

2008-03-28T15:36:00.000Z

If you know of an endangered boozer that you love? One which fulfils at least a handful of Save the Boozer credentials Boozer credentials? Want to help save said establishment? Well what are you waiting for! Let me know what it's called, where it lives and – in a couple of lines – what makes it so great, and I'll check it out and get it up on the site. Send all suggestions to: info@savetheboozer.com

2008-03-21T13:07:00.000Z

The Wenlock Arms
26 Wenlock Road, London N1
Tel: 020 7608 3406 www.wenlock-arms.co.uk
[map]

When ‘Thora Hird’ and ‘Auf Wiedersehen Pet – That’s Livin’ Alright’ are the answers to two of the pub quiz questions, and your round of three drinks (a rum and two vodkas) comes to £5.70, you’ve surely hit tavern Nirvana.

The place is already a Camra favourite, but there’s more to the Wenlock than its exotic-sounding ales. It is partly the location – a bit of a commitment to an unbeaten track to get there unless you’re a local – that makes its atmosphere so unique. En route, you pass the sumptuous Eagle, all Victorian mouldings, fairy lights and hip brown walls. Very nice, if you like that sort of thing. Which, according to the heaving hordes in the Wenlock, not everybody does.

There are young folk, old folk, regulars and interlopers – yet no one seems suspicious of anyone else. Perhaps because you sense no one’s secretly thinking, ‘Now if only I could get my hands on this place, give it a lick of paint and serve some decent food’. How relaxing.

Besides, the Wenlock is positively bursting with things that make you feel at home in a pub: there’s the photographic collage of regulars; cosy lace curtains; velvet covered bar stools; a sturdy menu featuring sausage rolls and black pudding sarnies; friendly punters (“I’m not trying to chat you up,” says one of a trio of locals from the estate over the road, who – in pub quiz team guise, at least – go by the name of ‘the Three Amigos’, offering to buy a drink. True or not, he’s nevertheless entirely gentlemanly and happy to talk about the pub he’s been coming to for decades, and to recommend some other gems, which might need a bit more support to stay alive than this boozy oasis.

Finally, we mustn’t forget ‘Quizmaster’ Eddie aka ‘the Fat Controller’, who sits sandwiched between a battered PA system and a piano and, when not quizzing, is thanking the night’s bar staff (“Let’s hear it for the two Johns and… [insert silent drumroll] Berrrrnaaaard!”). Cheers indeed! KB

2008-03-19T14:06:00.000Z

The Chancellors
25 Crisp Street
London W6
Tel: 020 8748 2600
[map]

The Chancellor is handily placed opposite one of West London's art gems, The Riverside Studios. But don't let that fool you. You won't be asked for your views on the latest Von Triers flick here. No, on the night we venture in, the question posed – to husband, aged 29 – is:
"Do you remember Vera Lynn?"
“Um…”
At this point the landlord steps in.
“Jimmy remembers Vera Lynn, don’t you Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s answer is lost to history... or rather, to the fog of his gin. He is offered a taxi home, and refuses, and is subsequently offered a wheelbarrow ride home instead. He refuses this as well – after all, it is only half past eight on a Tuesday.

In keeping with the location the pub is decorated with famous faces. There are framed black and white pics of long-forgotten crooners and thespians, mixed with a selection of photos of the landlady draped around an array of actors and comics who have dropped in‚ over the years. No Vera Lynn, but there’s a young Kathy Burke pulling a pint, Babs Windsor calling time and Ray Winstone with hair. Weirdest of all is a shot of Steve Coogan and Eddie Izzard. The latter sporting a moustache and the air of a manager of the local Paddy Power.

Despite the small footie-watching crowd, the music rolls – and we’re treated to some oldies: The Monkeys, Manfred Mann, Andy Williams.

Being an awkward trafficky walk from Hammersmith and not quite on the river probably ensures crowds are always modest. The only real disappointment is that The Chancellor is a lager affair, with only Courage for the ale quaffers – but snack fans will relish the Tayto crisps, which are a tasty touch. Maybe Vera ordered them in special. M&R C

2008-03-16T15:42:00.000Z

The London to Brighton
139 Queen’s Road, SE15
Tel: 020 7639 4923
[map]

On first entering this local diamond you get a few strange glances. Well at 6pm on a Saturday you are a stranger, as the only people here are regulars. They look so at home, it’s as if you’ve just stepped into their lounge; although the barmaid welcomes you into the family with a friendly smile and a £2.60 pint.

The only history on display in this pub, named after the neighbouring railway that first linked London to Brighton, are the old regulars. Like the trio of gentlemen who sit in a row opposite the bar - ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ – as much a fixture of the pub, one imagines, as the pool table, topless lady calendar and male mannequin sporting a tight pair of ‘Engerland’ briefs.

The elderly drinkers pass the odd comment but don’t need to chatter; here they can be left to themselves without feeling lonely. It’s where they go to escape from the wife, or from her absence. They also have a habit of coming out of the toilet doing their flies up.

Wartime posters on the walls reflect the universal battle going on between this lot and the younger clientele. It’s football versus music and, as the footie’s turned on, the fans simply go behind the bar and switch the jukebox off. The punters are definitely in charge here. The jukebox has a good variety of tunes from indie to swing to disco, and on this occasion the music wins as a youngish bar-prop with effective ‘ard lad tattoos demands to hear his selection. No one argues and the footie is viewed to the strains of Hard-Fi’s Living For The Weekend. It seems most of the regulars here live for every evening down the London and Brighton. CE

2008-03-14T16:15:00.001Z

Join Save the Boozer's Facebook group

There are exciting things going on behind the scenes at Save the Boozer. You'll hear about them soon - but what we need right now is to get all of you boozer nerds in one place, so we can keep you updated. Show your support and stay in the loop by joining the rather popular STB Facebook group

Once you're there, it'd be great to hear your suggestions for the following: STB wants to create a ten commandments of why London needs to hang onto its boozers. Please do contribute any thoughts in a wall post... For starters, here you go:

1. Binge drinking is on the rise - surely I'm not the only one to have linked it to the decline in numbers of proper pubs where you can sit and get pissed slowly, not fired up on adreneline up by the DJ you didn't choose to come and listen to for that quiet pint and a chat

2. Where else can you meet old people who you're not related to and get to have a crazy chat with them about their lives?

3. Society is crumbling, so everyone says especially the Daily Mail (and who could disagree with them?). The reason? We're all shit scared of each other, prejudiced, snobbish, invertedly snobbish, the lot - the reason? We never meet anyone different these days. And where can you do that? In a proper old local boozer.

Look forward to seeing you there.

2008-03-01T15:53:00.000Z

The Gladstone
1 Wilcox Road, Vauxhall
Tel: 020 7622 8979
[map]

Walking into The Gladstone is not unlike being welcomed into someone’s gran’s house at Christmas: the heating’s on too high, everything’s patterned and clashes violently, people are shouting, the TV’s blaring and the whole family’s over.

Greeting us at the door, a thin-faced middle-aged woman yells “C’mon Mum!” into the street and – amid the pink, overstuffed banquettes, pristine patterned carpet, textured copper topped tables, and rose-coloured curtains lined with scalloped lace – a new baby is being passed from cousin to neighbour to friend, and back to Mum for a feed, while several excitable children are weaving between punters’ legs, chasing one another around the bar. Mind you, it’s an Irish pub and we did choose to go on St Patrick’s day.

“I couldn’t give a bollocks!” shouts an old man with greased back wisps of grey hair and a tweed suit at the bar. It’s great to hear old people swear. “I wish I was 15 years younger,” says another mature gentleman by way of greeting at the bar, entirely without sleaze. It’s great to see old people out.

The landlady’s brother, who grew up around the corner, is keen to promote some other “proper old pubs” – and you’ll be the first to know if The Foresters’ Arms and The Blue Anchor in Bermondsey are still alive and untouched.

In addition to such warmth and brilliance, there’s also a darts board, a pool table and, for lunch, we read on a blackboard, we could have had Irish stew.

And on top of all this, we are also treated to a display of Irish dancing by the landlady and her daughter – how often do you get that in London? KB

2008-02-29T18:02:00.005Z

The Boot
116 Cromer St, London WC1H
Tel: 020 7837 3842
[map]

The Boot’s landlord, Packie Hughes, has run this place for 18 years. He's also partial to a bit of a car boot sale. Both these things are immediately evident upon walking into his pub: the place looks like the attic of a pathological hoarder.

Unusually, there’s an exercise bike parked in the women’s loos. “It’s for large ladies after a big dinner,” explains Packie with a twinkly Irish wink. “I took it off the skip next door. You'd be surprised how many go in and spend ten minutes on it between drinks.”

Shelves are crammed with incongruent objects: a stuffed kangaroo; the souvenir plate from someone’s holiday in Gran Canaria; a plastic seat salvaged from the old Wembley stadium; zillions of sporting trophies; a mechanical cobbler tapping away at – of course – a tiny boot; a pair of skis (their owner recently broke his leg while using them, they’ll hang above the bar until it mends).

Wallspace is scarce too. Among the many framed items jostling for space are a neatly folded Sunderland FC shirt, a picture of Bette Davis, a signed photograph of Lee Majors (“one of our customers was his chauffer,” explains Packie, “he donated it”). And, of course, there’s the obligatory photo montage of regulars.

Over at a table by the windows, two fifty-something couples are playing a lively game of cards, which is punctuated by loud expletives and bursts of laughter.
“Alright Jim,” one of them says to the guy who’s just sat down in the middle of the pub to watch the horse racing on the little TV in the corner, under which a pair of teenage boys are playing pool.

It’s like being in the best front room ever. In the mid 1980s. Something reflected reassuringly by the trad menu, highlights on which include: gammon steak, mixed grill, shepherd’s pie, lasagne and scampi – with black forest gateau or apple pie for pudding.

What will happen to this place in the next few years – will it get snapped up by developers after a prime bit of real estate in zone one? Packie doesn’t know. The smoking ban hasn’t exactly boosted business. The lease has gone up – and he won’t be renewing it. “There’s not a lot of money to be made in pubs now…” he stops mid sentence, squinting at the horses galloping past the finishing line on the TV screen.
Packie shrugs his shoulders and tuts. “Just lost a tenner.”

It feels like a strangely portentious moment. The Boot first appeared on a map of London in 1746 – but somehow its chances of survival until 2046 seem slim.

2008-02-28T16:52:00.000Z

The Elm Park Tavern
76 Elm Park, London SW2
No telephone number listed

[map]
Less than ten minutes after arriving at the Elm Park Tavern for the first time, we’re accosted by a drunk guy with obstreperous hair asking for juke box requests. Half an hour later, an even drunker companion joins him, an incredibly handsome old black guy, wearing an immaculate three-piece suit, a trilby and sparkling set of dentures. Pleased to have found an audience (the bar is otherwise empty) he begins to bodypop, unfazed by the juke box’s wildly eclectic remit (Beyonce, Abba, Glenn Miller, a techno remix of Queen’s theme to Flash Gordon and the Beach Boys). Afterwards, he sits down and, via the medium of song, tells us what seemed to be his life story (there was a lot of mumbling).

The Elm Park Tavern is a rare thing; a Victorian corner pub that’s had nothing ripped out – though plenty has been pasted over the top: the “quiz nite” posters, the flashing fruit machine, long brown velveteen curtains, green carpet and the important signs behind the bar saying things like “Go on, tell me again how lucky I am to work here, I keep forgetting!”, not to mention the tinsel-draped photographic diptych of the landlady’s Alsatians. It’s even got a garden, of sorts, well, it’s sort of concrete – but at least it’s outside. Who needs gastropubs when you can buy Tavern Snacks behind the bar? KB

2008-02-28T16:33:00.000Z

Nolan's, Vauxhall
33 Wilcox Road, SW8
Telephone 020 7622 3106

[map]
There’s a lot to be said for a place that doesn’t make you feel seedy for having a drink at 11.30 in the morning.

And by midday on a sunny Saturday, Nolan’s is already filling up – and the airy, sun-flooded bar makes such an early pint seem deceptively civilised.

Nolan’s is one of two Irish pubs in this villagey cul-de-sac (villagey to Londoners, that is, what with it being just off Wandsworth Road and surrounded by estates rather than cobblestones and cottages). And while going to the other one – The Gladstone – is like hanging out in your grandma’s over-heated, heavily curtained and cosily lit front room, Nolan’s has what you might call a functional approach to décor. Practical vinyl flooring; cheap-looking pale pine tables; mis-matched seating, flashing fruit machines, a pool table and a lot of empty space – perhaps handy for not falling over things when drunk.

There are, however, some gestures towards decoration and comfort: on the walls, fringed dark pink wall lamps vie for space among American car numberplates, old Guinness advertising posters and behind the bar, somewhat diconcertingly (think of the nicotine!), an enormous fish-tank. Besides, the largely no-frills interior is by no means unfriendly. On the bar, there’s a large bottle for change, labelled ‘OAP’s Summer Outing’.

“It’s definitely a family pub,” says the very friendly Mrs Nolan, “on a Saturday night you can have four generations in here.” Mr Nolan – Gabriel – has owned the place for over 21 years and is usually behind the bar. But right now he’s at the bookies. He likes horses, racehorses; breeds them, in fact. Which is why there is racing on the enormous screen above the karaoke stage in the back bar, mantlepieces full of trophies and framed photos of him through the decades with various equine pals covering the walls.

Possibly the best thing about Nolan’s though – apart from pints of Guinness at £2.70, and the family vibe – is the jukebox. Which, thanks to a collaboration of Mrs Nolan and her son, heavily weighted in the former’s favour one imagines, includes Elvis, a Capital Gold compilation called Vegas Legends, an Irish one called Thoughts of Yesterday, the Bee Gees’ Greatest Hits, a bit of Dean Martin, Abba, The Best Rock Album…Ever, Now volume 59 and the Eagles. And to think some people pay £15 to get into Sean Rowley’s Guilty Pleasures clubnights… KB

2008-02-08T17:23:00.000Z

The Hermit's Cave
28 Church Street, London SE5
Tel: 0871 426 2749
[map]

Unashamedly spit and sawdust, the Hermits Cave is pretty much the Platonic Ideal of what a boozer should be –unpretentious, cosy and beery. It's got a wistful Greek looking hermit on the sign, probably regretting the entire solitude gig and wishing he was inside the pub.

Reasons to like the Hermits Cave:

First off, the beer in the Hermits is very well kept. Enough said.

Second is the music policy: There isn't one, or indeed any music – which is refreshing. Most people like music – who hasn't at one time written 'music' under interests on their CV? – but it can be somewhat trying when an aspiring mixmeister is drowning out your conversation with his 'selection'. The calibre of DJs in bars in Camberwell is passable, but of somewhat unimaginative stock, so it makes for a nice change not having to shout above the soundtrack to a wedding reception circa 1970 onwards.

Thirdly, the decor – or lack of. There's your usual amount of tat that any self respecting pub accrues over the years, and some nice cut-glass panels in the doors, but no zinc topped bar or reclamation yard chic, just chairs, tables (and a respectable amount too). And a fire.

As for the food... well I haven't got a clue actually, it's probably all right, but who cares? In fact, I was slightly surprised to find a pub in London not yet serving Thai food but it's a pub. It serves beer and crisps and nuts too, and a huge jar of pickled eggs wouldn't look out of place on the bar. Might start a petition for one.

Finally, the crowd who come here seem like a generally nice mix of young and old, professional and studenty, and nobody seems too fussed what trainers you're wearing. Basically what you've got right here is your quintessential local boozer, and it's proper. TB

2008-02-01T11:58:00.005Z

The editor Journalist, Kate Burt, is a born and bred Londoner whose passion for unhip pubs began as a teenager, and was cemented when her big brother took her to the Bricklayers Arms in Putney when it was a cosy little dive full of eccentric locals (now, tragically, spruced beyond recognition). Building up to this moment, back in the late 1980s, she was warming up her boozer appreciation skills with fake ID and far too much make-up at dodgy gems such as the White Horse in Bethnal Green, the Park Tavern in Wandsworth, and the Crane (where she worked for four years in the kitchen, with a legendary if terrifying 4'9" – female – chef called Fred, who liked to cook in open toe shoes and converse in a cod Irish accent).

These days, Kate rents an office above a grimey old man pub in east London and is a regular at her local, the Effra.

She'd love to hear hear from you.

Contributors

Want to see your picture here? Email STB

Carolyn Evans started her drinking career in old men's pubs around Kingston-upon-Thames at the thirsty age of 17. Mainly because the landlords didn't tend to ask their clientele for ID, and they served snakebite and black. Favourites were The Flamingo (now sadly as dead as a dodo), The Fighting Cocks (still fighting on) and The Kingston Mill (now one of the Scream chain - aahhhh!). She graduated from Lancashire's finest in 1997, before continuing her education attending the best in Falmouth including Jacob's Ladder (closed recently - RIP) and The Chain Locker (still not a chain pub).

She currently lives in Brixton where she's busy furthering her career
down The Effra, The Duke and The Hobgoblin. www.myspace.com/carolynje

Gary Weasel started out as a Croydon casual hiding blades in his sock and saying 'as it 'appens' after every sentence. At this delicate stage in his life he could be found lurking in doorways of some of Croydon's most offensive fun pubs, smoking fags between thumb and forefinger in an aggressive suburban manner, and providing a visual precursor to today's WKD adverts. After escaping the clutches of the industrial park mecca, he sought solace in the arms of Some of south London's finest straw-floored piss-up palaces, including The Effra, the Elm Park Tavern and Mistress P's in Clapham (RIP). He is now an international marketing wanker (TM) and, as such, can often be found talking about himself in a loud voice in his local, the Trinity, in Brixton.

Tom Bevan
Tom's earliest drinking experience was a largely anecdotal double G&T left on a coffee table at the age of five, though his drinking career would only begin in earnest during his late teens, sampling the heady delights of Stockport's student pub circuit. From these chequered beginnings he has since chosen the righteous path, having broken glasses in some of the most anachronistic boozers this side of an American tourist's fevered imagination. Sites of interest on this spiritual pilgrimage included The Albert in South Bristol, Heaton Mersey's The Nursery and The Horse and Jockey in Chorlton, though he will always consider The Crown in Heaton Moor (a pub so down to earth it makes The Rovers Return look like The Met Bar) his spiritual home. The Eye Child

Rachel Crookes

Rachel can't prop up a bar, but she can have a go. She likes any pub where they have a bottle of drambuie and make a decent gin & tonic. She is mainly found in the pubs of W12, and is a big fan of snugs, nooks and The Cheshire Cheese. She doesn't mind the smoking ban, but thinks all pubs smell a bit sweaty now.

2008-01-24T12:31:00.000Z

The Uxbridge Arms
13, Uxbridge St, London, W8
Tel: 020 7727 7326
[map]

Having only previously sampled the Uxbridge in the evening, the concern was that the bulk of its clientele was ruddy-faced majors wearing brass-buttoned blazers. Nothing against the old buffers, of course, they certainly know how to drink – and you can’t argue with a guy who introduces you to his dog, instructs dog to bid farewell to other dog, and waves in the direction of your drink as he passes, to observe cheerily ‘ooh, you’re drinking the pinot whatsit, good, good…’ – but a good boozer is, of course, defined by the variety - not the class - of its drunks.

It is also defined by what goes on in it before the sun goes down – and a Saturday afternoon at the Uxbridge Arms provided much reassurance. By six o’clock, everyone is drunk and chain-smoking: a group of builders in pale, high waisted jeans are having a lascivious conversation on one table, a guy with wild hair and a corduroy jacket is drinking red wine and scribbling frantically into a battered notebook at the bar, the barmaid is having a fag with the middle-aged smooching couple in the corner. There’s a guy in the back, sitting in a pew, slumped over his pint. He might be dead.

The interior is straight out of Surrey – mock Tudor windows, wood panelling, fabric wall lamps, padded upholstery stools with regency legs, rustic beams, an antique military jacket mounted in a glass box – all cloaked in the nicotine that also stains the ceiling a rich, egg yolk yellow. At the bar, hang proper old chunky pint glasses with handles – like the ones you’d watch your dad drink out of when you were little and sitting in the pub garden with a bag of crisps. Talking of which, the Uxbridge sells Quavers. Bet they’re not for the majors. KB

2008-01-10T15:51:00.000Z

** RED ALERT! BOOZER AT RISK! **

The Griffin
Leonard Street, London EC2A
Tel: 0871 332 5389
[map]

The Griffin almost didn’t make this guide. Chiefly the Griffin’s near exclusion was down to its lack of old people, and proliferation of Shoreditch youth, hell bent on cutting off their circulation via the medium of tight jeans and keeping the jukebox XFM-friendly. But hey, one day they’ll be old – and possibly even alcoholic too – and then they’ll fit right in with the crumbling brilliance of their surrounds. Or at least they would, had news not just come in of the Griffin’s proposed spruce-up.

Clientele aside, the Griffin has some very special attributes not to be sniffed at, particularly in this hipster neck of the woods, which – dear readers, with some petitioning, begging or simply threats about removing your custom – perhaps you may be able to help preserve.

For example, the Griffin sells pickled eggs behind the bar. This could be a retro gastro-esque touch, were one not able to enjoy one’s rubbery snack in the company of the bald, falling apart carpet; a battered pool table; little stools with burgundy velvet seats and a TV you can watch Deal or No Deal on during the day. Besides, not all regulars are in guitar bands: until very recently (they’ve mysteriously vanished of late), a middle aged pair of conservatively dressed office workers would arrive at 1.05pm on the dot, “glass of white wine for the lady”, and gaze silently into one another’s eyes for exactly 55 minutes, luxuriating in illicit lunchtime infidelity. Then there’s smartly suited ‘Quadruple Vodka Guy’, regularly after his usual, seconds after opening time. The Alcoholic Artist, however, definitely wins the ‘happiest regular’ prize – no one has yet discovered what it is that makes him beam so beatifically as he sups his pint alone, late afternoon till closing time, but the sight of his dreamy visage is quite hypnotic.

And yet all these treasures could be at risk – there is talk of (those of a nervous disposition, cover your eyes) ripping up the carpet… installing banquette seating… reviving the kitchen… But at what cost? KB

Got a view? Please post your comments below and they will be forwarded…

2007-12-08T13:41:00.000Z

A CALL TO ARMS - JOIN THE BATTLE FOR LONDON’S BOOZERS

A plea from Save the Boozer's new partner in crimes against pubs, Liam Curran: The loss of the Rutland Arms was the final straw. Slowly but surely over the years, our pubs have been closing down one by one. But this year the trickle has turned into a flood. Eight pubs have closed in the last six months in my own little corner of Lewisham and the Rutland was a cosy, friendly pub – always packed - round the corner from my house. But after her husband Trevor died and passed over to the great Lock-In In The Sky, landlady Christine found it too much work and retired. It was bought by a property developer and an application has gone in to the council to turn it into flats, and so another piece of the beating heart of London dies.

For pubs constitute the very heart and spirit of the capital. Alongside our public parks they are the one place where people of all backgrounds, black white, young, old, wealthy and impoverished can meet, socialise and laugh. But because they have no real protection in planning law we are losing them so fast that since the early 1990s, 42% of the pubs in Lewisham have closed down. A similar story is being repeated across London. Enough talk. If you want to do something about it, join our campaign to get Mayor Ken Livingstone and London councils to insert a protection clause for pubs into local planning laws. Act now because next year will be too late.

Our heritage, our culture and our communities are under threat. The battle to save London’s boozers is on.

2007-12-06T13:13:00.002Z

The Palm Tree
Haverfield Road, Bow,
London, E3
Tel: 020 8475 0057

£2.90 a pint

"Hot sex is it?" inquires a dolled up lady in her sixties. “No Raw Sex - with Mel Smith and French and Saunders I think.” Typical eavesdropping at the Palm Tree in Mile End Park.

The Palm Tree is very exotic. Well with its original gold-leaf wallpaper and manual cash till, it is nothing like its neighbouring refurbished pubs and bars with their belly-dancing nights and Thai menus (the wrong sort of exotic). Here you get an authentic East End night out 'round the joanna with great banter. They've even preserved features like no Sky Sports and only being able to pay in cash. It's one of CAMRA's pubs of the year, but don't let that put you off - there's so much more to love here than the beer.

The punters are a motley crew. Young hippy-types with plaited beards and the denim mini-skirt plus cut-off tights brigade share a joke with the older local east-enders. Although on a sunny Bank Holiday Monday, there is a bit of a divide between the drinkers. The younger crowd want to be outside in the sun, so they don't mind drinking out of a plastic cup for the privilege. Whereas the older ones stay inside as they just want to enjoy their ale out of a decent pint glass. It is lovely sat on the grass by the canal, but even on a sunny day, you miss out on so much by being outside... Like the jazz. Tonight it's Eileen and The Fast Banana with Reg on piano and Phil on the 6-string bass. It's great to watch the older regulars getting lost in the music, closing their eyes, moving their heads and smiling to themselves at the cleverness of Reg’s tinkling.

The Palm Tree deserves a lot of respect for not surrendering to a revamp. The park surrounding it used to be terraced houses, but they were flattened in the Second World War. This has given it a great location, which is one of the reasons why it's so popular and maybe how it's managed to remain intact. Well, if it's withstood bouncing bombs, then it can resist a gastro/theme pub makeover. CE

2007-11-20T17:05:00.000Z

The Joiners Arms
35, Denmark Hill, Camberwell, London, SE5
Tel: 020 7703 4756
[map]

The Joiners Arms is something of a schizophrenic pub, it's two rooms cerebral hemispheres of an inebriated brain.

Stepping into the large main room, off the busy junction on Denmark Hill where the Joiners sits, your first impressions are of a light airy bar whose wooden floors, high ceilings and tiled walls whisper of impending gentrification. A mural of some sub-Masonic carpenters coat of arms, all cherubs and set squares, adorns one wall – marked in one corner by a circle of pinholes – tracing the outline of a long removed dartboard.

In reality this is a down-to-earth boozer. The closest you'll get to food is pork scratchings or a butty if you're lucky, and though they put tea lights out some evenings, their flickering illumination reveals a pretty standard grubby-jeaned clientele.

From here stepping into the back room feels like moving fractionally (just fractionally) closer to hell. This is the Wellesian underworld of the Joiners Arms, whose patrons play Morloch to the front room's Eloi.

Subdued lighting, sticky carpet, sagging sofas and a widescreen TV showing Sky Sports are but a sideshow to the main event: 'Camberwell's only pool table' (citation needed) which at any given time of day will usually be hosting a tournament of indeterminable length and nature.

The back room also hosts a monthly club night, the aptly named Messy, and providing a more intermittent soundtrack for the low-key revelry is the amiable landlord, who occasionally DJs a mix of pop and rock from a midi hi-fi perched on a table in the corner.

Overall then: a nice boozer, with friendly staff and a passable selection of beers. Really though, it's worth experiencing solely for the wildly different personalities of its two rooms, which function as a sort of huge GSCE science style 'choice chamber' for Camberwell's boozing classes. You don't so much drink here as partake in a social experiment. TB

2007-11-01T15:58:00.000Z

The Effra
Kellett Road, Brixton SW2
Tel: 020 7274 4180
[map]

The Effra has changed in the last couple of years, but all is not – yet – lost. Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. Among the losses to the corner pub with the Caribbean vibe and fairy lights outside are: the carpet, the pool table, the wall separating the public and the saloon bar and – most tragically (though an improvement for anyone out for a drink with a headache) – the carpet-topped domino table in the corner once surrounded at all times by a circle of old gentlemen wearing expressions of deep concentration and trilby hats, slamming their black and white pieces relentlessly.

So what remains? Lovers’ rock on a Sunday afternoon, plates piled high with Jamaican home-cooking until 9pm, Red Stripe on tap, the vile waft of cheap-smelling air-freshener that hits you every time the door to the loos is opened, and a sanctuary untainted by the (ubiquitous in these parts) surplus of non-local tourists wearing their unimaginative Saturday night outfits and trying ostentatiously to have sex with one another to the backdrop of DJs playing Hed Kandi compilation albums and too much perfume.

Also still intact is the barstool reserved for the toothless bearded old black lady who props herself up at the bar, alternating between angry rants and aggressive sexual innuendo to anyone who’ll listen (usually no one). Another key survivor – and this you either love or hate – is the stream of live jazz bands that perform chaotic freestyle REALLY LOUDLY every night, usually just when you’re getting to a really delicate part of a conversation that you’d rather not shout your way through. This element – while apparently being maintained by the matronly landlady – seems to be the reason for so many house-sharing young Spaniards in brown corduroy flares and chin-stroking south Londoners frequenting the place. Still, rather them than the shiny topped suburbanites from Clapham High Street, who need a tinny four-four house beat and Living Etc. wallpaper to fuel their weekly mating rituals. KB

2007-10-24T11:48:00.000Z

Another small bit of publicity for the cause... Read the Friday Cities interview here here

2007-10-19T11:56:00.000Z

Save the Boozer gets interviewed by LeCool! Read it here

2007-10-11T12:13:00.000Z

"PUBS ARE SAFE" SAYS EVENING STANDARD:
BUT ARE THEY?
The Evening Standard's Pete Clark wrote, last week, in praise of London's boozers - but argued that they weren't at risk to the extent suggested by the recent CAMRA research .

Read his feature here - and let me know what you think.

2007-09-14T17:11:00.000Z

The Pride of Spitalfields
3 Heneage Street
Whitechapel, E1
Tel: 020 7247 8933
[map]

Stepping into The Pride of Spitalfields can take you from a quiet Monday afternoon in Brick Lane, to straight round your Auntie’s on a Saturday. You know, the one you liked visiting as a kid because she fed you little sausages and roast potatoes. And her eyes sparkled with pleasure when you asked for another pint. OK, well maybe not the last one - but you get the idea.

Anyway, that’s Karen, The Pride’s chirpy East End landlady. She welcomes everyone in as if they’re her own with a “Yes babe?”, whether it’s the students (cousins), the job-seekers (dodgy Uncle Daves) or the Bangladeshi restaurant workers (Uncles who turn out to be a family friend).

Just about the right number of people squeeze into The Pride of Spitalfields’ cosy compactness on a busy Friday night, so it’s best to visit at less popular times of the week – midday Sunday or a ‘duvet day’ Wednesday. Besides, there’s always something going on because The Pride is a doorstep slice of real-life rather than a marketing man’s money-maker.

For instance, the free comedy double act of Karen and her husband is the daytime entertainment, their routine consisting of them talking to each other loudly so everyone can share the jokes, whilst one gives asides and winks to those drinking alone. You’ll never feel lonely in this pub – you’re almost not allowed to.

“I can smell mildew – is it that rug?” Karen remarks to no one in particular. “I’ve been like this since I gave up smoking,” she says, adding proudly that it was two weeks before the ban. The landlord chips in, “Nah, that’ll be Pete’s clothes smelling the place out.”

The chintzy lace valance, music selection of sixties crooners and the shouting at 'Deal or No Deal' on the telly keep out disrespectful Nathan Barley-types and encourage fans and locals back again and again - along with one of the friendliest welcomes in London. It’s great that in such a culturally diverse neighbourhood of Bangladeshis, Kosovans, Lithuanians and British people, an original East End pub is one of the most inclusive places to be.

And to uphold tradition, Karen can have the last word. “It’s like a community in here!” CE

2007-09-12T08:15:00.001Z

Another London pub threatened with closure
Thanks to contributor to be, Stonch, of Stonch's Beer Blog fame for alerting STB about this one. Last week, the Evening Standard reported that the teeny Nell Gwynne, tucked away down an alleyway just off the Strand, is under threat of closure because some horrid redevelopers have got their claws into the site. Read it here .

2007-09-03T12:24:00.000Z

Don't panic - it's not last orders for London pubs

Pete Clark, 9 March 2007, Evening Standard

Listen carefully late on a London night and you can hear the ghostly call of last orders echoing through the public houses of the capital city. The latest figures reveal that five pubs a week are closing their doors forever. Time is being called on an ancient tradition, one which involved people coming together on neutral territory and setting the world to rights over foaming beakers and brimming chalices filled from pump or optic. During the past year, 230 of these secular temples were lost, according to a recent report from the Campaign for Real Ale (Camra).

To pluck one example from many, the Phene Arms in Chelsea, the establishment in which George Best discovered that his sorrows had learned to swim, ceased trading in alcoholic fluids. Instead of being honoured with a plaque on the outside wall saying, "George Best Livered Here", history was poured away with the last of the slops.

This, needless to say, is a romantic view, one glimpsed through the bottom of a glass rosily. A first-time visitor to London would surely be of the opinion that the place is absolutely stuffed with drinking establishments. You would have to be stranded in a very strange part of town to walk for more than a few minutes before locating a handy watering hole.

From this point of view, the London pub is not in a steep decline, rather subject to the evolutionary process that affects every component of a changing society. Many years ago, the wine bar made its first appearance to general hoots of derision. The old school could not comprehend the point of a place that did not serve pints of beer or large gin and tonics.

Meanwhile, a new clientele, characterised by its feminine element, gratefully took up the chardonnay way to relax in sympathetic surroundings. The power of the pub, however, should never be underestimated. It survived the wine bar and will doubtless survive the gastropub, that frequently unlovely hybrid that dares to suggest that flame-grilled polenta is preferable to pork scratchings.

The notion of a communal drinking place without frills is sunk deep into our consciousness. The Romans introduced inns and taverns during their period of re-education of the locals, and the humble alehouse was a natural development from those beginnings.

Before setting off on their famous pilgrimage to Canterbury in 1388, Chaucer's pilgrims chose to refresh themselves first at the Tabard in Southwark, rather than seek spiritual sustenance in a church.

The two Samuels, Pepys and Johnson, two of the greatest Englishmen that ever lived, were accustomed to rest from toil and sharpen their wits in the rumbustious atmosphere of teeming taverns. When questioned on the matter by his biographer Boswell, Johnson was unequivocal in his praise of contemporary pub culture: "No sir, there is nothing that has been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn." This belief in the remedial powers of a good session even managed to survive the dire warnings that Hogarth attempted to engrave on the national consciousness. The Victorians took the only sensible course open to a class-dominated society: the gentlemen retired to private clubs in and found St James's, while the hoi-polloi took up position at the bar of the newly-minted public house.

The latter establishments, many of them enshrined in suitably grand Victorian constructions, have become part of the heritage of London. The neighbourhood boozer is established as part of the fabric of society. The only problem is that demand for their services is in dramatic decline. Giant television screens, quiz nights and a variety of musical accompaniments have kept many pubs in rude health. On the other hand, a stroll along most urban thoroughfares will provide undisputable evidence that the days of the unreconstructed public house are numbered. A large room filled with cigarette smoke, six men, an old lady and a dog is an anachronism that can only be marvelled at.

The supporters of this moribund way of life spring to its defence brandishing the trusty sword of tradition. It is considered by them unthinkable that the Londoner should be denied his unalienable right to booze in a friendly environment of sticky carpet and nicotine-distressed walls. Pubs are sacred places which should never be subject to the slightest change of use, let alone be menaced by the rumble of a bulldozer.

The fact that many of them are surplus to modern requirements is blithely disregarded - rather a mausoleum than some monument to progress. A spokesman for Camra has stated that if castles were treated in the same cavalier manner as pubs and wantonly shut down, there would be an uproar. But the idea that pubs, like castles, are an Englishman's home is sadly
outdated. There is, of course, a pressing need to preserve the character of our city, of which pubs form a part. The relentless rise of the phenomenon known as the clone town should be stoutly resisted. When every street presents the same depressing roll call of convenience stores and fast-food joints, then the sense of particular identity and local community has surely been lost.

Just as the Standard's Small Shops Campaign rightly promotes the need for a diversity beyond the uniformity of supermarkets, so there should be concomitant pressure to preserve the local pub in the face of expansion from ubiquitous and undifferentiated bar chains and themed establishments specially targeted at the binge drinker.

Yet while property prices in London continue climbing to dizzying heights, there will be inevitable changes in the landscape as redundant old structures make way for new housing, offices, shops and restaurants. After all, many of those who shout the loudest for the retention of the old ways are content to appreciate pubs from the outside on their way to the next dinner party. Lots of us don't go to pubs at all any more, and there are still plenty left for those who do.

As our tastes and habits change, so the pub will mutate in order to satisfy the demands of the new breed of regulars. Wine bars and gastro-lounges may come and go, but the basic demand for a no-nonsense, lubricated chinwag will endure. Last orders have not been called. There is plenty of drinking-up time left.

Associated Newspapers Limited
Registered office: Northcliffe House, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT
Registered in England and Wales with Company no. 84121
VAT no. GB 243 5711 74

2007-08-21T13:29:00.000Z

Help! Reviews of these pubs needed!
Do you love unhip boozers? Can you write? Then we need you! These pubs need reviewing...

The Rose and Crown, Tooting
Duke of Devonshire, Tooting
The Dolphin, Hackney
The Hare, Hackney
The Speight Arms, Hackney
Lord John Russell, Euston
The Boot, Euston
The Crown and Cushion, Westminster Bridge Road
The Montague, Peckham
The London & Brighton, Peckham
The Lambeth Walk, Peckham
The Duke of York, Elephant & Castle

Interested?

Email me

2007-08-08T08:35:00.001Z

KEN - WE NEED YOU!

Save the Boozer to host London-wide
campaign to save the city's proper pubs

A staggering eight pubs in Lewisham have closed down in the last six months alone, according to campaigning local businessman Liam Curran. Enough is enough, he believes - which is why he's launched a lobbying offensive on our dear Mayor to change the planning laws which allow developers to rip down our beloved boozers and turn them into blocks of flats. (Read Liam's call to arms here.) And if boozers aren't being knocked down to make way for luxury new pads, they're being homogenised, Weatherspoonsed or spruced beyond recognition and, in the process, alienating whole swathes of the community in the process.

Seeing as Liam Curran and STB are championing the same noble cause, we've decided to join forces to get the message well and truly out there - with a two-fold London-wide campaign: not only will we be lobbying Livingstone like there's no tomorrow to change those planning laws, we'll also be working on creating initiatives to help boozers remain profitable as boozers, rather than some pimped up version of their former selves.

We'll also be throwing a rather spectacular launch party for the campaign - including FREE DRINKS! LONDON'S BIGGEST PUB QUIZ! CHAZ 'N' DAVE! BABS WINDSOR! AND MORE!* - to unveil a host of additional initiatives designed to rein in all the other boozer threats out there. Watch this space...

Alternatively, for Campaign press enquiries please email Liam Curran at CPC.

*well, we're working on it

2007-08-07T21:57:00.001Z

NEWS FLASH!

Save the Boozer to host new London-wide campaign to get Ken Livingstone to adjust the city's planning permission laws to protect our fast disappearing old pubs. Watch this space for full update and information very soon...

2007-07-11T15:20:00.000Z

The Montague Arms
289 Queen’s Road, New Cross
London SE15 2PA
Tel: 020 7639 4923
[map]

A cocktail of history is mixed before your eyes as you enter this pub. The taxidermised zebra and stag heads, Penny Farthing, First World War shell, antique rifles, medieval-looking candlesticks, and the real human skeletons are all Stan the landlord's. Behind the bar the usual photo of the Queen Mum has been replaced by a real-life replica, in the form of the landlady with perfectly coiffured hair sipping the odd glass of sherry. The pub's housed Stan's collection of artefacts for years - perhaps it's his tribute to the Montague family, whose House in Bloomsbury was the original home of the British Museum in 1756.

Although the atmosphere is nothing like a museum’s. "Tits and fanny why we don't talk anymore," is punchlined through the air by the old entertainer on stage, who then plays a diverse medley of tunes on his Moogs, which take us from 'Waterloo Sunset' to 'Lambeth Walk' via 'The Lord of The Dance'. You only realise he's blind when he climbs off the stage holding a white stick. Landlord Stan backs him up on the drums, putting his heart into his playing - well he certainly looks like he’s having a heart attack.

It’s easy to see why this pub has a following, and the regulars are almost evangelical in spreading the message of the divine Sunday dinner. Even coach parties from ferries at Dover make their pilgrimage here to flash their cameras into the zebras' eyes.

The punters span the generations and tonight it’s the fortysomethings who take over the dancing and sing-along duties. A Saturday night here is like going back in time, yet it's preserving an evening down the pub of British historical importance, one that doesn't involve Sky Sports, but instead includes friendly faces, lively conversation and a good old knees-up. Carolyn Evans

(Open most evenings. It was closed in the daytime on Saturday though, so phone before you go to check that it’s open.)

2007-04-09T19:56:00.000Z

How the pub bubble burst
Read the depressing analysis of the state of British pubs in the Guardian here. Illustrated by a rather tragic image of London's derelict Intrepid Fox, a one-time legendary goth hang-out that's bizarrely been relocated to just behind Tottenham Court Road.

2007-03-23T14:14:00.001Z

Guardian G2 cover feature - all about preserving the pub
The article, which focuses on the regulars who are boycotting their beloved Lewes Arms Lewes Arms to protest about how big corporations are ruining local pubs. Read it here .

Also, a nice few pub tips from Martin Leeburn, of Friends of the Lewes Arms:

A few suggestions for your boozer list, the first three of which, by coincidence, serve Harveys.

1. The Harp, Chandos Street, WC2. Front entrance from Chandos Street, the back from Brydges Place, an alley which runs along the south side of the Coliseum and it's therefore the house boozer for the ENO stage crews. V good sausages in buns at lunch time.

2. Priory Arms, Lansdowne Way, SW9. A bit smart, and it does have a tv, but still a boozer I reckon.

3. Harveys only pub in London, the Royal Oak in Tabard Street near London Bridge. 'Nuff said.

4. Rather to my surprise, the Coach and Horses in Greek Street, famous for Monty Balon and Jeffrey Bernard, which is a Punch Tavern, has NOT been stuffed up by its new landlords, one of whom is called Alistair (Chote, i think). They even have perry on draught. Worth a look.

I too like nothing more than the kind of boozer you describe on your blog. Something to do with under-age drinking in dark, ill-frequented bars, I expect.

Keep up the good work

Martin

2007-03-15T11:11:00.001Z

WORLD OF BEER - exhibition at Proud Gallery
If you love pubs, chances are you love beer. Check out this exhibition of photography devoted to love of the amber nectar worldwide, on at the Proud Gallery in Camden.

The World of Beer: A Universal Language, in association with SABMiller and One Red Eye, runs at Proud Camden and Bar from 29th March - 29th April.

2007-03-13T11:12:00.000Z

LETTER TO THE EVENING STANDARD

Look out for the abridged version of this in today's Evening Standard.

While it was heartening to read about passion for the traditional boozer (Pete Clark’s ‘Don’t panic – it’s not last orders for London pubs’), the piece gives the pub crisis a somewhat rose-tinted hue.

“As our tastes and habits change, so the pub will mutate in order to satisfy the demands of the new breed of regulars,” it says. The problem? The ‘new breed’ only like traditional old boozers that have been spruced up enough to scare off the old breed of regulars

Yes, beautifully preserved Victorian pubs such as the Norfolk Arms in St Pancras, used to illustrate the piece, probably safe. The places in danger are the free houses where real locals go, where communities come together and you talk to people you’d never get into conversation anywhere else – the thoroughly un-styled, perhaps architecturally dull places full of old and young locals, which just happen to be run by the same landlord who’s been in charge since the 1970s and is about to retire. Alarm bells time: sadly, luxury flats or stripped floors, a gastro chef and a DJ are quicker cash fixes than engaging with the locals and building on tradition.

In Brixton, where I live, I’ve seen the lovely Queen – which threw together nicotine stained old regulars with a late-night youthful crowd – turned into flats; the marvellous Hamilton Arms – where aging locals had tankards behind the bar but mixed with fresh blood who came for the 70s reggae – become a supermarket. I worry for places such as the Greyhound in Oval, where a depressing afternoon was lightened by a toothless lady-regular waltzing with her drunken suitor; the crumbling, carpeted Griffin, in Shoreditch, which risks losing charm –and, thus its young clients – when its looming refurb takes place. Even my local – the Effra – while safe so far, recently caused OAP uproar, by dispensing with the dominoes table where old guys in trilbies had played for decades. It’s a slippery slope.

And – being the ones with the cash and the influence – it’s up to the younger generation to stand up for their local. I hope to inspire some of them to do so.

2007-03-13T11:06:00.001Z

SAVE THE BOOZER'S LETTER TO THE EVENING STANDARD
Look out for the abridged version of this in today's Evening Standard.

While it was heartening to read about passion for the traditional boozer (Pete Clark’s ‘Don’t panic – it’s not last orders for London pubs’), the piece gives the pub crisis a somewhat rose-tinted hue. Read full letter here.

2007-03-12T11:33:00.001Z

BOOZER REVIEWERS NEEDED!
Help - there are (sadly) not enough hours in the day for me to review all the brilliant boozers that need saving in this city. So I need to recruit a crack team of like-minded pub lovers to share their love for London's least hip drinking establishments via the medium of extremely good writing. Interested? Click here to find out more.

2007-03-06T18:56:00.001Z

SMOKING BAN
The UK's smoking ban comes into force on July 1 this year. While this may be great news for the nation's health, is it great news for the nation's dwindling numbers of unhip pubs? How do you think the smoking ban will affect the average local boozer? Post your thoughts below.
Read more about the smoking ban.

2007-03-02T15:33:00.001Z

PUBS IN DANGER!!
According to a recent survey by Camra (The Campaign for Real Ale, see link on right), droves of pubs are closing down like never before - 56 a month, say Camra, are closed permanently, 80 per cent of which are urban.

Read more about it here and find out how to lend your support to their upcoming pub-saving initiatives.

2007-02-28T13:17:00.005Z

‘Under new management’, ‘newly refurbished’ and 'gastropub' are some of the most disappointing words to appear outside a once lived-in and loved boozer, the sorts of pubs with sticky carpets and dodgy juke boxes, yet full of history and drunken raconteurs ready to tell their own slice of it. This blog - with your help - will collate a guide to the best locals left in London, with the aim of saving these endangered establishments from gastro-itis.

"Hang on-" you might be thinking, "I don't want to publicise my lovely old local to a bunch of annoying trend-seeking interlopers... what if they take my favourite barstool?!" But look at it this way: what's the alternative? If you and the yellow-tinged alcoholic at the bar remain the only punters for much longer, your local is almost certainly destined to be wiped out by heartless redevelopers. So, much as you may love your quiet little corner seat, your trusty landlord/lady can't survive forever on takings of £32 a day. Old boozers are the cornerstones of strong local communities, pubs where young and old from all walks of life can pull up a stool, order a pint, and know that, in true "Cheers" style, someone in there will always know your name.

Look forward to hearing from you soon!
Love Kate x

2005-05-19T13:40:00.000Z

The Owl and Pussycat
34 Redchurch Street, London
EC2 7DP
Tel: 020 7613 3628
[map]

“Very rarely do you let your hair down…” goes the conversation between the group of lunchtime drinkers by the bar. Followed by raucous laughter, as the recipient of this comment strokes his balding pate.

The recipient is the landlord (and non-professional Pete Postlethwaite lookalike). Not only does he serve you drinks, quite slowly (but which you can pay for by card – old boozers everywhere take note, it’s a cunning no sell-out ploy that surely boosts profits), but ‘Pete’ is also master of the barbeque in the summer. The barbeque is where you can order meat based platters in half carcass size portions that will take you several days to get through. There are salads too, also the size of several regular meals in one. In the summer, you can eat them in the sunny little yard out the back.

All somewhat unusual for the typically respectable boozer – but nothing to be suspicious of. Despite its proximity to trendcentral, the O&P is clearly not considered hip enough for marauding Hoxtonites to colonise. For example, instead of a heaving jukebox for entertainment, there’s an enormous flatscreen silver TV perched on one of the battered tables – not ideal but, if it helps the cause… The clientele is also 90% male, and none of them particularly youthful or hip – though the conversation is fascinating: it’s not every day you overhear a group of barflys comparing their man-parts with Curlywurlies and Wagon Wheels.

As for décor, it’s a gem. Firstly, it’s really dark – perfect for daytime drinking. There’s also a huge fireplace; a bar billiards table for when you get bored (and probably not in a stylish retro way – you get the feeling it’s just always been there); faux Victorian stained glass lampshades a la Christopher Wray circa 1979; a piano, green leather chairs, pews and a very important message in a frame on the wall, announcing: ‘For men like us, Beer is Best’. Quite. KB