Archive for the ‘London Irish Bars’ Tag

The Six Bells, Acton, London   1 comment


Pub #1922:

It’s a little inconvenient but our butcher shop, a family run Irish place, is in Shepherd’s Bush.  We used to go to this guy in the neighbourhood (in Ruislip Manor), but he sold out to some hipsters that gouge you on prices and only feature trendy cuts (and fuck a bunch of hipsters, anyway).  The potato heads do an awesome job and there’s never really need for an excuse to go to Shepherd’s Bush, anyway.  Saturday morning, my non-excuse was a wee run from Greenford that ended up at the butcher after a couple of pub stops.

The first of these was at the Six Bells in Acton, about halfway through the trot.  A grand building outside, it seems to be more of a sport bar within.  The bartender seemed fairly disinterested in pouring drinks and only an old couple spoke to one another with everyone else staring at something a thousand miles away at an angle about 10 degrees below horizontal.  Bleak.

Noticed something strange on the football match.  It was a British Premier League game but the electronic crawler surrounding the field at the foot of the stands only had adverts in Chinese.  I also noted this in the Pocket Watch (write-up soon), further down the road.  Cultural Imperialism turning against those who — if not invented it — made it High Art.  Well played, Beijing, well played.



Posted September 17, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Golden Lion, Camden Town, London   1 comment


Pub #1911:

The bar doesn’t have real ales at the Golden Lion, but the house is gorgeous on the outside and worth a stop for a lager to explore the smaller-than-you-might-suspect interior.  Like the Old Eagle, it seems more of a locals’ joint but unlike it more of a working man’s hangout.  I was in just before 5 and the steady trickle of new customers made me think it would be packed and lively by 5:30.



The landlady, an ebullient Irishwoman, seemed disappointed in my order but poured away.  The lads just after me and the fellow at the bar were all having Guinness.  I think it’s obvious I LIKE stout (and porter and mild) which is why I’m so unimpressed with Guinness.  The mouse in this story is a lightweight drunk, on a related note:


Posted September 3, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The New Inn, Brentford, London   2 comments


Pub #1904:

I hadn’t run far to get there, but I had three pubs (which turned into four) to visit before the longer leg of my journey could commence.  Near the Northeast corner of Griffin Park the New Inn sits with a smallish bar in front and a large, sunny lounge visible through a window in the bar.  Three fellows in the lounge stopped talking to stare at me through this notch and when they resumed their conversation they kept eyeing me suspiciously.  This continued for 5 full minutes and I was ready to leave since there didn’t appear to be a bartender; a skinny kid who emerged just then from the beer garden with two teenage girls took his place behind the bar and asked my order.



I pointed to the pump clip turned my way and he gave the handle a rudimentary tug.  “It’s out.”  Of course.  He turned the clip for Old Speckled Hen around and, without asking if I would like it, pulled a pint then, realising his presumption, asked, “would you like one of those?”

“It’ll be fine.  I’m just thirsty.”  I tried a sip and wrinkled my nose.  “Not TOO soapy,” I joked.  He reached for my glass, apologising profusely; but, I was too quick and pulled it away.  “Really, it’s fine.”  The guys in the lounge seemed amused or, at least, a little less menacing.

Pretty house, great garden, and I wouldn’t judge them on a late Wednesday afternoon shift…someone professional MUST run this place when it’s busy.


Posted August 26, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Black Lion, Plaistow, London   1 comment

Pub #1901:

The Black Lion was the fourth really friendly bar I made it to on Friday (with one to go after it).  They’ve all had their own character and this bar is much more an Irish venue than anything else I’d seen on the day’s run but a grand little place, nonetheless, with a Byzantine layout that allows you find a nice snug away from other folks if that’s what you want.  I stuck to the main bar and looked around, myself, finding what must be the gayest advert for Newcastle Brown Ale, ever, tucked away on a wall near my table:



“One good round?”  Looks like one good reacharound, more like.  Not that there’s anything wrong with it.

Women seem to run the place and blokes seem to be the only customers.  The food looks awesome, both from the kitchen and at the seafood bar in the garden (but I had just filled up on eels a few minutes earlier and didn’t want to spoil my supper with a second lunch).


Posted August 21, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Twelve Pins, Finsbury Park, London   Leave a comment


After the baseball game, we strolled through Finsbury Park to the station.  The weather had been perfect for baseball but, as Jackie (who was nursing a hangover) had pointed out, our poor planning meant that we watched with absolutely fuck-all appropriate beverages.  I pointed over to the Twelve Pins and used the vendor voice to intone, “Cold Beeeeeee-ERRR!”

It was packed inside just before a televised hurling match…the woman off to the left in the picture below (in the maroon-striped yellow hurling jersey) and her girlfriend headed in as soon as the first paddle-off started the match (or however the fuck this starts…I know as much about hurling as I do Gaelic football).  Still, the front garden easily competed with the Victorian interior for lively people watching and J’s head seemed to clear with the beer and a codeine.


Posted August 9, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Marquis of Granby, New Cross, London   Leave a comment

I was standing at the bar in the Marquis of Granby waiting for the bartender for a second round when the (probably) trans-gal from Transylvania who drifted in behind me asked with a heavy Romanian accent, “Is it tobin?”

“I’m sorry. Is it what-was-that?”

“Is it tobin?” She repeated, then pantomime looked around and back a me then the guy parked at the end of the bar.  I looked at him to and his eyes darted around in the universal sign language for, “no, me neither, you’re on your own.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m not getting a word of that.”

She repeated slowly then looked at me quizzically. “Oh, you are no not a native Englisher speaker.”

“No, I speak English very well.  I had lessons as a child.”

The guy at the bar agreed and added, “yes, it’s not him, it’s you,” grudgingly coming to my defence.  I asked for it once more, and got,

“Is. It. O. Bin.”

“Oh, is it OPEN?  Yes, of course it is.  They wouldn’t let us lot stay in here for free.”  Now she looked confused.

“I thought it was maybe a private party.”

By now the bartender was back and I got our refills.  “What was THAT all about?” Jackie asked on my return.

“Dunno,” I honestly answered.  “This shit seems to follow me around.”


They don’t have a website.  The earlier link is a review that makes my experience seem rather unexpected.  Here’s the WhatPub entry.


Posted July 18, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Crown and Cushion, Lambeth, London   1 comment


The Crown & Cushion was a breath of fresh air after the ghastly experience of the Horse and Stables just down the road, Friday.  Very much an old-style pub with a great couple running the bar and incorporating a Thai restaurant to boot.  And, they are part of the Community Loo Scheme (so they are responsible members of the community).



There’s no web presence but I picked up WiFi in the joint and was stuck answering some last-minute emails for a while (helping stop work emergencies over the weekend so I don’t have to deal with them on Monday).  The beer, though, was lovely, the atmosphere grand and it was close enough to the wife’s job that I didn’t have to rush to get over there to meet her for some after-work drinks.


Posted July 4, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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