Pub 74, Day 28 – The Florentine

By Andy

The illuminated structure jumped out of the darkness, drawing us towards it like a predator in the depths of the ocean.

“What is it?” gasped Rob. I couldn't offer an answer.

An imposing staircase began at our feet, stretching away into the distance.

“Is it a mansion?”

Inside, an assortment of padded chairs were dotted around glossy tables. A member of staff smiled and offered her greetings.

“Is it a hotel?”

The room was infused with the warm aroma of basil, a product of the pizza oven which blazed in the corner. 

“Is it a restaurant?”

Our questions were answered by a sign on the counter: “The Florentine Pub.”

Here at Pubquest, we like our pubs a bit posh. Give me a pint of ale and a fireplace over a John Smith's and a fight. But this place had swung the pendulum too far. It was off the Poshometer.

The atmosphere was more reminiscent of an art gallery than a pub, with huddled regulars conversing in hushed tones.

The floor was immaculately tiled, the bar was crafted from wood. The beer was poured from sparkling bronze taps into oddly-shaped glasses, before the head was sliced off with that thing you see on Stella Artois adverts.

Yes it was impressive, but I'd rather sit in cheaper furniture and pay 50p less for my pint.

Instead of offering a selection of prize ales from Sheffield's local breweries, The Florentine primarily stocked lagers from an assortment of European countries. Granted an Estrella is refreshing when you're on a beach in Barcelona, and I'm sure a Staropramen hits the spot when you're relaxing in Prague; but in Sheffield on a cold Autumn night, I just want a Moonshine or Pale Rider.

However, the pub gained brownie points for having the Pubs of Sheffield map on the wall. This document is to Pubquest what the Bible is to Christians, and anyone who puts it in a frame is part of our congregation.

Pub: The Florentine (1 Tapton Park Road, S10 3FG)

Rating: 7/10

Pint: Löwenbräu

Brewery: Löwenbräu (Munich)

NEXT UP: Rob's sister blogs, at The Sherwood...

Pub 73, Day 28 – Crosspool Tavern

By Rob

I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that, for the most part, me and Andy are exceptionally well-organised individuals. As such, Pubquest ventures are usually subjected to the most meticulous planning and careful forethought imaginable. Rarely do we step out onto the road without having a comprehensive route already mapped out in great detail.

On this occasion, however, we'd decided to throw caution to the wind and just 'go with it'.

So it came to pass that, high on life and shortcrust pastry, we left The Sportsman with very little idea as to where we were heading. Trusting in Lady Fortune to guide our feet, we wandered a little ways down the road and, sure enough, soon found ourselves coming face-to-face with our next venue: the Crosspool Tavern.

The building struck an impressive image from the outside, which isn't all too surprising when one considers that the Tavern had received a whopping £180,000 refurbishment only ten years earlier. With our hopes already up, we headed inside.

The pub didn't disappoint, presenting us with a warm, comfortable, and old-fashioned interior. We threw ourselves down into two armchairs, seated before a wood-burner fireplace, feeling immediately like two vaguely posh blokes in some vaguely posh countryside manor.

Once we'd staked our claim to the best seats in the house (using the classic coat-over-the-back-of-the-chair technique) we wandered over to the bar. The choice of beers was decent, and we each ordered a pint of IPA India Pale Ale – a crisp session ale with a hoppy aroma. The folks over at Greene King Brewery insist that this is "a pint people trust", suggesting you could safely leave it alone with your kids, keys, and wallet, and return home to find them all untouched.

Sitting there in our armchairs, before the fireplace, sipping Indian ale like a couple of colonial overlords, we mused over where to go next. The internet was offering no assistance, with Andy's ancient phone being typically useless, as he'd ran out of data, or credit, or both (note: for people reading this a few years in the future, the term 'credit' refers to the way in which poor people used to operate their phones). My phone, being of the Apple iPhone variety, was out of battery on account of it having been switched on for more than ten minutes.

Left with no other recourse, Andy hoisted himself up from the comfort of his seat and went to ask the barman about nearby pubs. The poor guy was the only member of staff on duty and was attempting to serve a large number of thirsty students at the bar, but this didn't deter Andy from trying to make his life more difficult, and he stayed rooted to the spot until he finally managed to grab the man's attention. With a look of mild irritation, the guy told Andy about a pub just a few minutes up the road. The pub, he explained, was called The Sportsman.

Sheffield's most expensive pint of Guinness

Dejected, Andy came back no more enlightened than before. However, he soon cheered up when he noticed a sign that advertised the carvery, which came complete with 'as much pork crackling as you can eat'. I was then faced with the sad duty of informing my comrade that, in actual fact, the endless supply of crackling on offer was little more than a mound of warm pork scratchings. It was a lesson I'd learned the hard way on a previous visit.

It was then that we spotted the black-and-white photograph of the Crosspool Tavern hanging on the wall above us. We quickly realised that this would make an excellent backdrop for a Pubquest picture. Looking around the pub, Andy searched for somebody to entrust his phone to, so that we could both be in the photo.

Amidst the many students, all of whom were sat around relaxing and doing very little, Andy decided that the best person to waylay was, in fact, the overworked and sweat-caked barman who was now scurrying around the venue collecting empty glasses, clearly in a hurry to get back to the bar so he could set to work on reducing the queue of customers.

Andy stopped him in his tracks and, ignorant of the intense exasperation that was written plain across the man's face, persuaded him to take the picture. When this was done, Andy looked at the result and decided that he wasn't quite satisfied. He therefore asked the barman to try again, despite my insisting that we should let the man get back to work.

As I'm sure you'll agree, when comparing the two pictures side-by-side, it was clearly worth the re-take...

 

Pub: Crosspool Tavern (468 Manchester Rd, S10 5DT)

Rating: 6/10

Pint: India Pale Ale

Brewery: Greene King Brewery (Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk)

NEXT UP: Posh pubs, at The Florentine... 

Pub 72, Day 28 – The Sportsman

By Andy

The key part about visiting every pub in Sheffield, is that you have to visit every pub in Sheffield.

However, like a toddler refusing to eat his greens, we had so far shoved all the scary pubs to the side of our plate.

Tonight though, we had made a pact: no more dessert until we'd finished our broccoli.

“Where do you wanna go then?” asked Rob. “Manor? Parson Cross? What's that terrifying pub in town with a permanent drug dealer outside?”

I gulped. He was referring to the Hen & Chickens. He was right though: we couldn't keep putting it off.

“I guess I'll book us a taxi then,” I muttered, a sense of trepidation settling in my stomach.

“City Taxis, Gavin speaking.”

“H-Hello, I'd like to book a taxi from Gleadless please.”

“As soon as possible?” he enquired, his cheery tone contrasting with the dread in my voice.

I paused. I looked at Rob. He nodded, grimly.

“Yes.”

“And where is it you're going?”

“The H-... The He-...” The words wouldn't come out.

Just then Rob's girlfriend Hannah entered the room. “I'm going to my yoga class in a minute if you want a lift to Crosspool?”

A wave of relief cascaded over me. My fear was suddenly replaced with the zest for life which typically consumes those who have survived plane crashes or beaten a particularly deadly disease.

I apologised to Gavin and hung up. Why would we waste money on a taxi when we could get to Crosspool for free?

***

The Sportsman is somewhat imposing from the outside, but oozes warmth from within. We chose two pints of Summer Lightning, and even though the summer evenings were starting to recede, our beer still hit the spot with its golden flavour.

We had planned to eat somewhere along the way, and The Sportsman seemed a good bet. Being part of the Ember Inns chain, the pub provides superior food to Wetherspoons (although not quite as homely as those pubs which break free from the chain concept altogether). Ignoring the fancier sections of the menu, we both selected steak & ale pie with chips.

However, when the food arrived, the chips were nowhere to be seen: we both received steak & ale pie with mashed potato. Now, I like to think of myself as a reasonably level-headed person, but replacing the best form of potato (chips) with one of the worst (mash) should be a hanging offence. In true British fashion I said nothing, but deep down I was wishing irreversible harm upon the waiter and all of his family.

However, there is no doubt that Pubquest will have the last laugh: the negative publicity The Sportsman will receive after we name and shame them to an audience of millions will almost certainly put them out of business.

Pub: The Sportsman (57 Benty Lane, S10 5NF)

Rating: 6.5/10

Beer: Summer Lightning

Brewery: Hop Back Brewery (Downton, Wiltshire)

NEXT UP: A photo opportunity, at the Crosspool Tavern...

Pub 71, Day 27 – The Wick at Both Ends

By Rob

It's time to name and shame: this post was supposed to have been written by Lucy, who has previously penned a blog for us. However, because she's a total flake with the stamina of a woman four times her age, she went home before we ever reached The Wick at Both Ends. The blog has therefore fallen into the trusted hands of me, Rob.

***

By bringing various people along with us on our journey, and by securing contributions from a number of generous guest-bloggers, Andy and I have sought to demonstrate that we do, in fact, have other friends outside of our dynamic duo.  Being sociable chaps, we often like to go out boozing with these friends and, believe it or not, while every Pubquest session involves drinking, not every drinking session involves Pubquest.

As such, we were out in town one Saturday night with a cadre of compatriots, hopping gracefully from one bar to the next, with no intention of indulging in our elaborate hobby. Moving effortlessly down the alcohol-soaked stretch of West Street, we suddenly found ourselves standing outside The Wick at Both Ends.

"Is this a pub?" asked Andy, looking over at me.

A collective groan emitted from our fellow comrades, who'd clearly been harbouring under the illusion that they were safe from any Pubquest-related talk, on account of us not actually going to any pubs.

Andy's question was a good one, but thankfully it was a quandary we were familiar with, having been confronted with this same conundrum twice before, both times on the same stretch of road (at The Cavendish and West Street Live). Therefore, we knew the drill: if there was even the slightest sliver of doubt as to whether the venue was a pub, we had to assume it was.

"I'm not sure, but I think we have to go in," I announced to the irritated assembly.

Once inside, we fought our way through the tightly packed crowd of revellers until we managed to get to the bar. There, the menus displayed an impressive range of fancy cocktails, some of which sounded amazing. Looking around us, we watched with fascination as the bartenders produced some astounding concoctions. Shots of indeterminate liquors were set ablaze with a match as the flames flew up into the air, while elegant glasses of varying shapes and sizes were filled with vibrantly coloured liquids. The smell of spirits, fruit and mint leaves filled the air.

We watched on as our friends ordered weird and wonderful drinks, each more exotic than the last; this one pink, that one green, this one with a wedge of grapefruit, that one with a strawberry on top. When it finally came to our turn, it was with a heavy heart that we made yet another sacrifice in service to our quest and ordered two pints of Lactose Tolerant.

Yes, that's right, while everyone around us drank mojitos and cosmopolitans and Long Island iced teas, we were forced to slurp our way through a pint of milk stout.

I honestly can't think of any drink that is further away from a colourful, fruity cocktail than milk stout. After all, stout alone is already pretty far removed, being jet black in colour and made from roasted malt/barley. But add the extra ingredient of unfermentable lactose and you've got a truly unsatisfying pint.

Now, maybe a milk stout is nice on a cold winter's night when you're sat by a fire, and maybe it's nice when served in small measures or mixed with another beer, but a full pint of the stuff is too much to handle – especially in the hot interior of The Wick at Both Ends, while your mates are sipping on some of Sheffield's finest cocktails.

Feeling left out, we decided that we would quickly down our drinks, head back to the bar, and join the rest of our friends in drinking cocktails. However, downing a full pint of a drink so heavy that it used to be given to nursing mothers proved to be difficult, and there were several points along the way at which I thought I might regurgitate the dairy-laden soup.

Me and Andy, with good old Danny in the middle

We eventually managed to consume the whole pint and, feeling like we'd just polished off a roast dinner, went and got ourselves some cocktails for dessert. I treated myself to a Seven Hills, which to this day is still my favourite drink to be offered at The Wick.

As for the bar pub itself, The Wick was a really smart venue in a great location. In addition to the cocktails, the line-up of ales was pretty good. The entire place was festooned with fairy lights and, although it gets very busy at the weekends, there was still somewhere to sit down. I can also confidently state that, from previous experience, The Wick has been known to make fantastic burgers.

Of course, you could just order a milk stout, thereby consuming the same amount of calories for a fraction of the price...

Pub: The Wick at Both Ends (149-151 West Street, S1 4EW)

Rating: 7.5/10

Pint: Lactose Tolerant

Brewery: Left Handed Giant Brewing Co. (Bristol)

NEXT UP: Avoiding rough pubs, at The Sportsman...

Pub 70, Day 26 – The Dove & Rainbow

By Rob

The Dove & Rainbow is a strange pub and, truth be told, I don't know how I feel about it.

I think I love it.

And yet, I think I hate it.

The only thing I'm sure of, is that there's no middle ground between the two. This isn't a pub you can categorise as 'just OK', because it's too unique. You either think it's good, or you don't.

And today, as I write this blog, I'll reveal which side of the fence I finally came down on.

The first thing we noted, as we escaped from The Bankers Draft via the back door, is how out-of-the-way The Dove & Rainbow is. Although in the centre of town, the pub sits in a courtyard that's only accessible via long, darkened alleyways, or by walking through the adjacent Wetherspoons (either option putting you at serious risk of assault and battery).

I thought this was great. It gave the pub an almost exclusive feel – as if you needed secret, Sheffield-based knowledge to find it. But then, I also thought it was a bit stupid and, alone on a dark night, some people wouldn't be overly fond of the location.

From the outside, the pub looked smart. With its gold lettering and black facade, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in London, among the other Westminster boozers. But then, it did look a little out of place in the dingy Sheffield courtyard behind Argos.

Once inside, you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd entered a totally different venue. The walls were coated in graffiti (of the artistic, deliberate kind, rather than the 'Janice Loves Cock' variety, which you might see scrawled across the door of a toilet cubicle), and the main seating area had a bare, stripped-back feel to it. I liked how the place looked different from anywhere else nearby, it was certainly distinctive. But then, as I also discovered in the South Sea, the 'grime' look isn't my first choice when it comes to pub decor.

To the right-hand side there was a pool table and, to the left, a stage. The pub, it transpired, was something of a rock venue. This endeared the place to me even further. Live music is great, and I appreciate that it caters to a fairly niche clientele. But then, I'm not a huge fan of heavy rock music – I prefer to chat with my mates in the pub, which is tricky when you're being deafened by the thundering rhythms of AC/DC.

The beer selection was fantastic, with a decent line-up of real ales on offer. We spotted a home brew – the Dove & Rainbow Cask Ale – and so, bound by a rule of our own making, we bought two pints. Once again, I was in two minds: I was pleased that the pub was brewing its own beer. But then, I didn't really enjoy the taste.

As I sat there with Andy and Richard, taking in the sights and sounds of this bizarre, hidden, rock 'n' roll little pub, I finally realised how I felt.

I really like The Dove & Rainbow, but I wouldn't go there.

For me, it was the pub equivalent of red wine: I thought it was nice, and I could see why people enjoyed it. Objectively, I knew it was good.

But then, I'd always choose to order a beer instead.

Pub: The Dove & Rainbow (2 Hartshead Square, S1 2FD)

Rating: 7/10

Pint: Dove & Rainbow Cask Ale

Brewery: The Dove & Rainbow

NEXT UP: Milk stout, at The Wick at Both Ends...

Pub 69, Day 26 – The Bankers Draft

Guest-blogger Richard returns with his second review!

By Richard

Many months ago I joined Pubquest as they toured some of the worst pubs in Sheffield. Keeping in line with Pubquest's 'no rush' policy for reviews I took my time to write the blog, although my inertia soon began to resemble that of George R R Martin.

After receiving what felt like hundreds of texts and emails prompting me to speed up (hypocrites!), I decided that it was finally time to write this thing. My original post for the Tap & Barrel is still the most-viewed page on Pubquest so I realise the standards I have set – here is the long-awaited sequel...

REPUTATION

I had never visited The Bankers Draft prior to this venture (and I have never returned) but I was aware of its rough reputation. Having walked past the pub every day on my way to work I knew what to expect – no matter what time my shift started there were always scruffy patrons outside with a pint and a cigarette.

We entered what is a huge establishment, much larger than I realised. Nervously glancing over my shoulder to check for flying bottles smashing into my head, I was pleasantly surprised to see nothing but smiling locals. In fact, it was like most Wetherspoon pubs in decor, with a chilled vibe reminding me of my youth: long evenings spent at the Wetherpoons in my hometown (The Liquorice Gardens in Worksop) for cheap booze before a night out.

There were no unwelcoming stares or confrontations, although I did get the impression that the majority of customers had been there since opening time. The barman greeted us and took our order: I went for my usual (the cheapest lager), while the guys chose Red MacGregor from the impressive selection.

MAKING FRIENDS

We sat on a raised table with high chairs, making the place feel like an old saloon. A group of women at the next table were getting rowdy but we didn’t pay them much attention... until one of them sat next to us. Our initial conversation went something like this:

Girl: “You look like John Travolta.”

Me: “Erm... thank you?”

Girl: “You think you look like John Travolta.”

Me: “Haha… yeah… from Saturday Night Fever?”

Girl: “I hate people like you, turning up thinking you're fucking John Travolta.”

She was quite intimidating and I was still confused why she had joined us and was picking on me specifically. (I noticed Andy & Rob did not step in to help me out, from which I can only conclude they are cowards. Moreover, I suddenly realised why they had invited me to The Bankers Draft, rather than the Dore Moor Inn.)

The woman was clearly slaughtered: every time she spoke in my direction it felt like I had inhaled a unit of alcohol. She was very threatening and I'm not ashamed to admit a little scary. She announced she was from Hull and had nowhere to stay – obviously she had seen me as a potential target, but lacked the charm to conduct even a basic conversation. Once our initial fear had worn off, we even managed to get a group photo.

She remained with us making aggressive chit-chat for 15 minutes or so until the other girls came over (they were also drunk but less paralytic). We had assumed she was part of their group but it turned out she was a classic Wetherspoons drunkard, touring every table.

Once she went to the toilet we quickly downed our drinks, ran out of the pub and moved on to our next adventure.

Terrifying women aside, I actually thought The Bankers Draft was a decent pub. It boasts all the Wetherspoons features we know and love, and its sheer size means you can always find a quiet corner to enjoy a pint (although on this occasion we failed spectacularly!). I know my opinion doesn’t count for much so I'll leave it with the experts to score, but I would award 5/10 for the pub and 4/10 for the experience.

On a personal note I'd like to thank Pubquest for inviting me along and being a part of their journey. It was great fun looking at pubs in a different way and I enjoyed writing the reviews.

Pub: The Bankers Draft (1-3 Market Place, S1 2GH)

Rating: 5/10

Pint: Red MacGregor

Brewery: The Orkney Brewery (Quoyloo, Orkney)

NEXT UP: Marmite pubs, at The Dove & Rainbow...

Pub 68, Day 26 – Three Cranes

By Rob

I consider it a testament to my good character that, if I were to count the number of times that I’ve been thrown out of a licensed venue, I could do so with the fingers on one hand.^[1]

Looking back at those moments in which I was forcibly ejected from someplace or other, I notice that the reasons behind each individual occasion are surprisingly varied. For example, I once had to leave West Street Live because a female friend involved herself in an altercation that was taking place between a bouncer and an extremely tall Brazilian transsexual and, through association, I too was rather unfairly relegated to the curb outside.

As for some of the other instances: I’ve been required to vacate the premises of a nightclub for not being attired in the appropriate footwear; for seeming too drunk when I actually wasn’t; for seeming too drunk when I actually was; for trying (and failing) to sneak in without a ticket; for not being over the age of eighteen and, finally, for being incorrectly identified as someone who’d just snorted cocaine when, in actual fact, I’d simply been using the toilet.

The point I’m making is that, like many people of my age, I’ve been asked to leave pubs/clubs/bars for a variety of reasons. However, I can safely say that I’ve never been required to shuffle out of a place on account of my political affiliations, and I suspect that not very many people have.

Yet this was precisely the reason given by a group of political activists, all of whom belonged to a well-known mainstream party, for being required to leave the Three Cranes pub in 1980. Having been asked to finish their drinks and depart by the landlord, one of the men refused and the police were subsequently called. Later, the men would write to local magistrates to try and prevent the renewal of the landlord’s license, complaining that he’d flung them out of the pub because he didn’t approve of their political leanings (something the landlord strenuously denied).^[2]

Fortunately, and presumably without the aid of media spin doctors, the Three Cranes managed to survive this earth-shattering political scandal and continued to serve alcohol to the thirsty people of Sheffield city centre: something made evident by the fact that the pub was still there when we wandered down Queen Street in search of our next boozer over 35 years later.

Having been solidly underwhelmed by the Tap & Barrel (a visit excellently documented by our guest blogger Richard), the exterior of the Three Cranes did little to suggest an impending increase in the overall quality of pubs visited thus far that evening. However, given that we were still loitering around some of the more insalubrious parts of the city centre, we were simply hoping for a non-hostile drinking environment.

Stepping inside, we knew immediately that the customers wouldn’t offer us any trouble. Not because they looked like a friendly bunch, but because there weren’t any. Besides ourselves and the landlady, who was sat at one of the tables on her laptop, the place was entirely empty.

On a possibly related note, the service was impeccable. For starters, we were served immediately, which doesn’t always happen in a city-centre pub. In addition, the landlady ushered us to our seats and then took our drink orders while we settled into our chairs, which we all enjoyed. To a Pubquest novice like Richard, it probably seemed that the dedicated service was linked to the fact that we represented 100% of the pub’s custom at that time. However, it was clear to both Andy and myself that we were being treated to table service on account of our semi-celebrity status as local pub aficionados.

The total absence of any other human beings allowed us to get a good, long look at the inside of the pub. The place had a very cosy feel to it and was, in every way conceivable, as typical of an old man’s watering hole as you could get – which is certainly not a bad thing! The pub was also home to a pool table, although our enthusiasm for cue sports had already been expended at the previous venue.

We soon had a pint of Sharp’s Atlantic pale ale delivered into our hands. The pint was very nice indeed, with quite strong citrus tones and a slight taste of tropical fruit. However, the promised "touch of candy floss" failed to make itself noticed amidst the other flavours.^[3] Overall, it was a refreshing drink and, as a result, it didn’t take us long to imbibe the full amount.

As the landlady came over to collect the empty glasses (thus preventing us from making our usual goodwill gesture by returning them to the bar), we were forced to disappoint her by not ordering a second round of drinks. Knowing we were condemning the pub to be empty once more, we headed for the door with a pang of sadness in our hearts.

But, on the plus side, we weren’t being thrown out.

Pub: Three Cranes (74 Queen Street, S1 2DW)

Rating: 6/10

Pint: Atlantic

Brewery: Sharp’s Brewery (Rock, Cornwall)

NEXT UP: Chatted up in Wetherspoons, at The Bankers Draft...

---

References:
[1] And by one hand, I actually mean two

[2] Peter Tuffrey, Sheffield Pubs; Landlords and Landladies, Fonthill Media, (2012), p.130

[3] https://www.sharpsbrewery.co.uk/our-beers/atlantic.html

Pub 67, Day 26 – Tap & Barrel

This blog is the second to be penned by a guest writer. On this occasion, the author is Andy's colleague Richard, who we invited along to join us for a few beers... 

By Richard 

I joined up with Pubquest in September 2015 and couldn’t resist the opportunity to guest-write about my experience. 

 

Andy and Rob lured me in by suggesting we try some places near Kelham Island – naturally I jumped at the chance as there are some cracking pubs around there. Sadly, they had already been to the good ones, so I was going on an adventure in a sort-of ‘mop-up session’. We went to four pubs I had never been to before… and will never go to again.

The first one was the Tap & Barrel.

Before moving to Sheffield I had an experience that led to a rule in life we should all follow: Never Cross the Tram Tracks at the Bottom of Town near Wilkinson’s. Granted it’s not that catchy a saying but it remains accurate to this day. Years ago I walked past B&M Bargains where a lady was shouting at her kid to have a poo outside the store in an area away from the shop (but in full view of everyone walking by). When an elderly man suggested she use the toilet in KFC across the road she screamed at him to mind his own business. 

The Tap & Barrel is about 100 metres down the road from where this incident occurred.

I met Andy a couple of months prior at work and we strangely bonded over our mutual love of the musical Les Misérables – I would much rather be writing a review about that than the pubs we went to!

Andy had mentioned he was doing this blog and trying to visit every pub in Sheffield. My initial thoughts were dismissive: it seemed a very strange hobby, and why would anybody waste so much time on a blog that nobody reads? However, once I had carefully considered the prospect of joining them I realised we could end up in some great places that I would typically avoid.

The Tap & Barrel is situated on the corner of two busy roads and from the outside looked like a respectable place. The green and gold sign reminded me of the colours of House Tyrell from Game of Thrones, although admittedly the surrounding area did not resemble Highgarden.

We entered and were greeted by a friendly bar lady who was wearing a leopard-print onesie. I don't know if this was official staff uniform or if she had only just got out of bed, but it was a particularly odd choice seeing as it was a warm summer's evening (not typical winter-onsie-weather).

The pub was spacious and clean with the bar spreading across the far wall. We ordered our drinks and took a seat: looking around it was a standard boozer with a pool table, one or two locals and strangely someone setting up a karaoke machine on a dead Tuesday night!

Now, I’m not a man’s man type ale-drinker and would much prefer a cocktail if I'm honest, but sadly there weren't any on the menu. I settled with a Foster's (which was pleasant) and the guys had an Amstel which they appeared to enjoy. The rest of the experience was OK, we played pool (I beat Andy which I know he will thank me for mentioning), and just as we finished our drinks a rough-looking group entered the pub and went straight to the toilet together. We made eye contact with each other and without saying anything left the pub immediately.

I’m not a pub-reviewing ‘expert’ like my Pubquest drinking pals, but in my opinion the Tap & Barrel is a passable pub on the wrong side of town. Compared to other pubs in the immediate area it is an improvement, but when you consider a 10-minute walk in any direction would lead you to a superior boozer, it's probably not worth visiting again.

I would score the pub 4 out of 10. 

UPDATE: not long after our visit, two men were stabbed in the Tap & Barrel. It's a good job we took Richard along as back-up!

Tap & Barrel pool score: Pubquest 0-1 Rest of World
Pubquest pool score: Pubquest 3-2 Rest of World

Pub: Tap & Barrel (42 Waingate, S3 8LB)

Rating: 4/10

Pint: Amstel

Brewery: Heineken International (Zoeterwoude, Netherlands)

NEXT UP: A political scandal, at the Three Cranes...