By
Rob
In
case you've somehow failed to notice Andy's numerous jibes, which have been directed at me over the past few blog posts, I have been away in Rome for a couple of months.
While there, I didn't quite find the time to crack on with my other, pub-related responsibilities and so, from the bottom of my heart, I
would like to apologise.
(Just
to clarify, this is an apology directed at the Pubquest readership
and is not to be confused with an apology directed at Andy. I do
have some words to direct at Andy, in light of his recent comments,
but there are only two of them.)
So,
without further delay, let's get back to business.
***
Having just finished up at the historic Carbrook Hall, we made the short walk around the corner to The Noose &
Gibbet Inn.
Sat
across from the arena, it's a pub I'd seen many times as a child and
had always found intriguing. Not because I had an unhealthy,
pre-pubescent interest in alcohol – rather, I was fascinated by the
(pretend) man languishing inside the cage of the hanging gibbet,
which had stood outside the pub for as long as I could remember. (So
just an unhealthy, pre-pubescent interest in corpses.)
Finally
satisfying my long-held curiosity, I stepped into the pub that had
piqued my interest for so long.
And
interesting the pub certainly was. Old roof beams mixed with modern
flooring, an almost essay-length historical narrative written on one
of the walls, a pool table that was semi-separate to the rest of the
seating areas and, lest we forget, the man hanging in the gibbet
outside.
Immediately,
I found myself liking the place.
The
range of beers could've been better, with no real ales on offer at
the time of our visit (although I've been led to believe that, on a
normal night, the selection is slightly more expansive). Once again,
Andy and I were boxed into a corner, and once again we came out
swinging with two bottles of Bulmers.
On
this occasion, the precise flavouring was Bold Black Cherry, but I
won't waste anybody's time by trying to review it. Needless to say it
was Bulmers, and I didn't like it.
However,
the disappointment at the drinks selection was greatly alleviated by
the friendly woman behind the bar, who seemed genuinely interested in
our pub-centric adventure. As she quickly came to realise, showing
even the slightest interest in our all-consuming hobby instantly
elevated a person from 'total stranger' to 'new best friend'.
After
we'd chewed the poor woman's ear off for nearly half an hour, we
relocated to the pool table and fired off a few games, all of which
Andy won.
Similar
to its nearby competitor Carbrook Hall, The Noose & Gibbet has a
bit of local history to boast of. Like the street it stands on, the
pub owes its name to the misadventures of a certain Spence Broughton.
Back in 1791, this chap had the poor sense to rob the Sheffield to
Rotherham postal service (which apparently involved little more than
dragging a boy off his horse and stealing his bag).
Although
his accomplices managed to evade the death sentence, Mr Broughton
wasn't so lucky, and poor old Spence was found guilty of highway robbery at York Castle in March 1792. He was subsequently executed
and, according to the court records, his body was displayed in a
gibbet at "some conspicuous spot on Attercliffe Common".[1]
Upon
the erection of the gibbet, and within the first few days of its
arrival, a whopping 40,000 people were said to have flocked to catch
a glimpse of it. Oddly, the gibbet was then kept in place for the
next 36 years, becoming rather a gruesome local milestone.
And
so, as you might have rightly guessed, the pub takes its name from
this infamous and nearby incident. So too does the street,
Broughton Lane, take its name from the unfortunate (and relatively
unsuccessful) highwayman Spence Broughton.
Who
said history couldn't be fun?
Noose & Gibbet pool score: Andy 3-0 Rob
Pubquest pool score: Andy 45-30 Rob
Pub:
The Noose & Gibbet Inn (97 Broughton Lane, S9 2DE)
Rating:
5.5/10
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