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Daily Mail
5 days ago
- Business
- Daily Mail
JONATHAN BROCKLEBANK: My round? Sorry if I sound mean, but with beer at £5 a pint I fear it may now be every man for himself
Anyone conversant with pub culture will know the kind. This breed of drinker knows who they are too – shameless freeloaders. Some of them even admit as much with a chuckle. They are Tam, perched on his stool at The Clansman in the Scottish sitcom Still Game – ever thirsty, ever eyeing opportunities for others to finance the quenching. I've known many Tams and, on occasion, have become more fixated than I should in the course of an evening down the boozer on their modus operandi. I can't let it go. How can they do this to their friends? Why so sleekit? Where is their sense of honour? I am talking about the ones who disappear to the loo when they sense the next round of drinks is looming and return, minutes later, to find their next pint waiting for them. 'Oh, grand. Cheers everyone.' The ones who quaff away for hours at their companions' expense and then, as expectant eyes turn to them, suddenly remember there's somewhere they have to be. 'Later, chaps. First round's on me next time.' I've seen them finally cornered and marvelled at their gall as they ask if anyone can spot them 20 quid to get the next round in. We have all met a character like Tam from sitcom Still Game, who constantly tries to avoid paying for a drink I've watched that twenty cross the table – sometimes it has even come from my wallet – to land in the pub leech's paw, and I've known in that second the donor will never see it again. The cardinal rule of my nights spent in licensed establishments was never to be that guy. Spend more than you planned if need be. Just avoid being thought of as him. Drink with integrity. Take the hit on a round that wasn't strictly yours to get stung for rather than allow suspicions to ferment that you are not a team player. I was aware, of course, that this plays straight into the freeloaders' hands. They stick close to people who don't want to be like them. This certainly, was the game as I understood it two or three decades ago when my visits to pubs were more frequent and my staying power was at its peak. Alas, today I am struggling with the rules. Do I even want to be a team player? The average price for a pint of beer, we learn this week, has passed the £5 mark. And that's the cheap stuff. If your mates are on Peronis or Morettis or BrewDog's Punk IPA – as those I meet in pubs invariably seem to be – we are talking upwards of £6. That £20 note was good for six drinks or more back when I was getting in the rounds. Today it will score you three Punk IPAs and you may as well put the few pennies change in the charity box, please, barman. In the circumstances, are rounds even still a thing? Shouldn't it be every man for themselves? What is the modern etiquette now that the sums are getting serious? I was wondering this even as I walked in the door of a Glasgow city centre watering hole a few weeks ago. Lots of people I knew were going to be there. There was an excellent chance – because I knew them to be kind-hearted souls – that someone would offer to buy me a drink within seconds. What is the right answer? In truth, the situation requires more investigation, but pub environments, I find, are not conducive to the over-thinking of responses to simple questions like 'do you want a drink?' But let us, in our sobriety, over-think it here. Now, you have very generously extended to me the offer of a drink. Let me tell you my problem with that. I've only just arrived. For all I know, you are already in a round with six or seven people. If I accept your offer then I am – according to the etiquette with which I am familiar but, admittedly, may be out of date now – subsumed into this round, which entails certain obligations on my part. In days gone by, this would not have worried me because I was either capable of drinking six or seven pints or past caring by pint four or five. But you will accept that times have changed. You see before you today the enfeebled husk of the drinker I once was. Let me be brutally frank: I'm out of here after pint two or three. I hope you are beginning to see my difficulty. Suppose for a moment I were to say yes. Half an hour from now, I would be dutybound to repay your kindness with my own offer of the refreshment of your choice from the bar. But what if Tom, Dick, Harry, John, Paul, George and Ringo have empty glasses too? In the current climate, Peronis costing what they do, my tolerance for them being what is, I would find my presumed obligation to them, as fellow members of 'the round', vexatious. And here, friend, is the other dimension to my quandary. Long ago, when I thought I knew my way around drinking culture, I made a promise to myself that I would never be that guy – the one that I am in grave danger of becoming if I accept your hospitality, keep my head down for round two and leg it as soon as that glass is drained. So, you see, I am caught on the horns of a moral and financial dilemma. You ask me if I want a drink. I say that is far too complicated a question for a guy who has just walked in the door. If I know anything about pubs, it is that the drinker you assaulted with this stream of verbiage would have started talking to somebody else – anybody else – five minutes ago. So, actually, what I said was: 'No thanks, you're fine, mate. I'll get my own. I'm only staying for a couple.' But might the dawn of the £5 and £6 pint be an appropriate juncture to give the more ponderous answer a fair hearing? Is the eyewatering expense of getting a round in – coupled with the collapse of my generation's ability to last the pace – forcing us to walk a pub protocol tightrope? I cannot ever be Tam the sponger from Still Game and. Nor, I find, can I still be the willing dupe team player who says 'hey, who's counting anyway?' It turns out I am counting. It was, then, with an every-man-for-himself bearing that I approached the bar and sorted myself out with a £6 Moretti. Did I feel good about it? Nope. Did it seem churlish, petty, anti-social, an affront to the rich social culture, the sense of camaraderie that the pub round once engendered for me? Yup. But, like I say, I no longer know how the game is played. And drink is too expensive – and I can hold too little of it – for occasional visitors like me to leave the pub with honour. I skulked away after three or four, wondering if I should write to a problem page. How does one negotiate a night in the pub? As the freeloader? The patsy? The standoffish loner? None of them work for me.
Times
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Times
9 of the best pubs in London — chosen by our beer expert
London has about 3,500 pubs. Even if you take out the tourist traps, quasi-restaurants and boozers going through the motions, you're still left with hundreds worthy of celebration. How can I pick nine? First, these are pubs I've loved drinking in. Second, I followed George Orwell's lead. In 1946 he set out the ten key characteristics of his perfect pub, the Moon Under Water, including simple snacks and friendly staff. But his ideal was a fictional mash-up of three pubs (most likely the Hen & Chickens, the Compton Arms and the Canonbury Tavern, all still serving in Highbury and Islington) — because none of them met more than eight of his ten requirements. I doubt a perfect ten exists even now. But I'm sure he'd agree each pub here is an eight or nine. 1. The Dog and Bell, Deptford ALAMY This place's appeal is summed up by the story of my mate Chris. He lived just around the corner, a ten-minute walk from the station. One day, returning home from a hard slog at work, he got caught in a freezing rain shower. He walked into the pub, wet through, glasses steamed up, and by the time he made it to the bar, a pint of London Pride was waiting for him. 'You look like you could use one of these,' the barman said, waving his money away. Real ales such as Pride are complemented by a good range of bottled Belgians. The Dog and Bell remains a popular hangout for those born in the area as well as the hipsters moving in. 116 Prince Street SE8; 2. The Grenadier, Belgravia In the days before smartphones, you simply couldn't find the Grenadier unless someone took you there. It may be yards away from busy Knightsbridge, but the quiet mews road it inhabits feels disconnected in space and time. Once a barracks for the Duke of Wellington's troops, it's apparently haunted by one of them, who was beaten to death after losing at cards. For years visitors have been sticking money (mainly US dollars) on the ceiling to pay off his debt. It's also rumoured that the pub is the birthplace of the bloody mary. It isn't, but they're really good here. If you're not having a pint of perfectly conditioned Landlord you should certainly try one, perhaps paired with the awesome bar snack of a sausage with mustard. (The main menu is a little fancier.) 18 Wilton Row SW1; 3. The Harp, Covent Garden Most pubs around Covent Garden are overpriced and underloved, serving poor-to-average beer to an infinite supply of tourists. The Harp is an astonishing exception. Long and narrow, it has dark walls covered in pictures of Edwardian music-hall stars that look as if they might have been there since they were new. Specialising in cask ale and real cider, it's frequented mid-afternoon by people who look as though they should be at the office. In summer the entire front opens up for alfresco drinking, soundtracked by the West End's symphony of street cleaners, police sirens and construction work. 47 Chandos Place WC2; 4. The Hope, Carshalton Every pub in this selection serves great beer, but the Hope is arguably the most celebrated pub in London for its cask ale, having won Camra's Greater London Pub of the Year six times. It has seven hand pumps and monthly beer festivals. It's not just for beer geeks though — the choice of ciders, wines and whiskies is good too. In 2010 the owner, Punch Taverns, mooted turning the pub into a restaurant. Locals formed a company to buy the lease, then the pub itself. With no TVs and no music, the Hope is proof that traditional community pubs can be done well. 48 West Street SM5; 5. Ye Olde Mitre, Holborn Down a narrow alley off Hatton Garden, Ye Olde Mitre was built in 1546 for the servants of the Bishops of Ely. Until the 1960s it remained under the jurisdiction of Cambridgeshire police rather than the Met, so jewel thieves were known to hide out here. The ales are well kept and varied. The building has a delightful lack of right angles — everything is bowed and bent. The main attraction for me, though, is to build an 'English tapas' sharing platter from the toasties, pork pies and pickles on the simple menu. 1 Ely Court EC1; 6. The Pride of Spitalfields ALAMY In a world obsessed with the concept of 'authenticity', the people, places and things that truly possess it don't have to try too hard to demonstrate it. The Pride of Spitalfields is one such pub — it simply refuses to change. The swirly carpets, low red bar stools and salt-beef sandwiches that have always been here can now be found again in trendy London pubs. The warm welcome that's extended to local geezers, City workers, cool kids and tourists alike is much harder to replicate. 3 Heneage Street E1 7. The Pocket, Islington The owners of the Southampton Arms in Kentish Town and the Cock Tavern in Hackney have in both instances proved the success of their stripped-back offering of 'ale, cider, meat'. Their latest venture, halfway between the other two, is an instant classic. A record player on the corner of the bar adds ambience to the high-ceilinged, white-tiles-and-mahogany space. Now that we all pay by card and don't have to worry about pocket shrapnel, the beers have charmingly odd prices, calculated for stronger beers at £1.08 for every percentage point of alcohol. It's the kind of place where people are probably already claiming to have been regulars for years, though it has only been open since March. 25 Canonbury Lane N1; 8. The Red Lion & Sun, Highgate This pub is ranked sixth in the Estrella Damm list of top 50 gastropubs and is the only pub in this selection that flirts with the G-word. But it is included here because the negative expectations that often come with that term — that it's no longer a 'proper' pub — do not materialise. The landlord, Heath Ball, is considered one of the best publicans in the country, and here's why: everything else is as good as the food. Beers, wines and whiskies are expertly chosen and perfectly kept. There's a roaring fire in winter, and in the summer you can choose from two beer gardens — one that can be booked for eating, one more casual. Crucially, there's always space for anyone popping in for a quiet pint. A pub that's constantly trying to be better than it already is. 25 North Road N6; 9. The Royal Oak, Southwark The London outpost of Sussex brewer Harvey's, this is a pub that hugs you as you come through the doors. It has such a sense of permanence that you could almost picture the Roman officials who ran Londinium enjoying the same Victorian corner-pub ambience we do today. The windows stretch all around the exterior walls and up to the ceiling, so it's always bright and spacious, but you can also find a nook for a leisurely pint even if the main space is busy. The pies and burgers are straightforward but good and the staff really know their beer. Offering a rare chance to sample all Harvey's excellent beers beyond the flagship Sussex Best, this is one of the places where brewers and beer writers congregate when they visit London. 44 Tabard Street SE1;
