49. Birmingham City Centre, Saturday 1st November 2003

The previous day's warm up was not a good idea because I felt awful in Dave's car as we sped up the M40 to Birmingham to see Ed 'Smiley' Lewis for some beer in some city centre hostelries. On arrival a map with shed loads of dots greeted us, so we knew that there was likely to be some carnage. We got a nice West Midlands Travel bus, exact fare only a quid, to the city centre, and a potentially horrible road called Broad Street where later that evening we were sure that Ben Sherman shirted fools would go out on the pull drinking lager. However, the first pub we went to was a pleasing oasis in the desert of shiteness. The City Tavern is how a pub should be, with traditional Victorian fixtures and fittings and a couple of shitfaced-at-lunchtime punters singing Elvis songs in the snug. It had a splendid array of local ale - Davenport Bitter, and some Highgate products - Natterjack, Old Ale, Dark Mild, Special and Saddlers, served with high quality and competitive prices.

Our first Wetherspoons of the day, the Figure of Eight, was our next stop. I'm not going to write much about this one because everyone knows what a Wetherspoons is like inside, though this one was a little darker than normal and there were lots of old people in there for some reason. The beer selection was Eagle IPA, Arkells 3B, Shropshire Gold, Daleside Bitter, Abbot and Dogs Bollocks. We had the Shropshire and Daleside and these were in excellent condition. Moving swiftly on we arrived at the Tap and Spile, another excellent looking pub with quite a shabby, but not really neglected, interior. This pub turned out to be the most expensive of the day, perhaps because it was catering for the more discerning punter. There were lots of beers - London Pride, Youngs Bitter, Pedigree, two sorts of Adnams, Greene King IPA, Old Speckled Hen and Bombardier - and they were very well kept, but there was nothing really unusual. We contented ourselves with changing the spellings on the beer menu board, such was the state of the proprietor's grammar, and I also noted that the gents may be accessed directly from the canal side path, which can be useful to know.

The Brasshouse is located back on Broad Street, near to a shopping centre and is a big pub in a new building with not much beer (Bass, Tetley, Hen), but it does have comfy seats. It is also quite expensive. Nothing more really to say about it - oh no, tell a lie, it has some very fancy lights on the bar and a collection of builders' helmets too... Rose Winterton had recommended the James Brindley which overlooks the canal on the other side, so we had to go and have a look. I thought that there was an attractive woman cleaning the window with her back to us, but in fact she was 'old woman's face, young woman's hair', whoops! This is another pub that probably fills with shits later on in the evening, but was empty when we went in. There was only Bass coming out of the taps, so I instead elected to have Brew XI on pissflow which was crap and very lively. The toilets were also super hot and smelt of swimming pools, so we left quickly.

Going right into the centre, Birmingham has a few pubs which are underground, with just a door onto the road. The Royal Mail is one such place, a smoke-filled, windowless crypt of a pub which had quite a dubious set of punters drinking there. We drank our cheap pissflow mild and left quickly. The Hill is in the main shopping area and was one of those new-fangled Firkins designed to attract a classier sort of youth. Unfortunately the draught beer range - Adnams, 6X, Bombardier, Tetley, Amstel and wheat beer, along with a good set of Belgian bottles - is wasted on the lager-swilling youths that frequent these places and shovel Fosters down their throats, and this may explain why the beer tasted a bit tired and un-used. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant enough experience in a light and airy pub with a very high ceiling, and as we watched the full time scores come in, we also watched a couple of young ladies playing a very slow game of pool.

After a very poor dose of crap food at McDonalds where they buggered up Ed's order and change (twice), we wound up at a shit Wetherspoons. The Square Peg is a long thin pub with no nice corners and too much bar. Something was wrong with the toilets - I assume they were flooded with piss. Most of the drinkers were carrying shopping and doing general scurrying, so it was also unpleasant for this reason. In a rather unlike Wetherspoons way, the beer range wasn't that good - Badger Best, Daleside, Smiles, Abbot, London Pride and a very earthy Brains Dark Mild. Another one to leave quickly. The Old Royal was not much of an improvement and it took a while to get served in there even though we were the only ones waiting. When we did, we sat in some very nice chairs and admired a very ordinary pub. London Pride and Hen were the beers, the Pride was expensive and tasted like it was nearing the end of its life. Not one to return to in a hurry.

The Hogshead was quite a strange pub. Tucked away down a back street, it was fairly quite and had some very, very comfortable chairs which allowed us to have a well earned rest. Beer was excellent - Brakspear, Pedigree, Boddingtons, Adnams and a splendid one called Enville White; I think it tasted a little like a wheat beer perhaps, but was certainly very refreshing. The interior was just a little too light and pine, but was acceptable. Funniest pub of the day was the Litten Tree. Beer was on offer here, a pound a pint or 90p for a half, the lady told us so we had pints. Ed and I selected Courage (Pedigree was off), and Dave had an interestingly branded Litten Tree Best Bitter. Best it certainly was not, more like beer-flavoured water, it tasted absolutely appalling, even though it wasn't off, and Dave had to go to the gents' to tip it away, as we divvied up the remaining Courage. This for some reason left us in stitches of laughter. One high point was that the bar was real rock, Rapakivi textured igneous rock no less.

In complete contrast the Old Joint Stock was a magnificent pub, probably the best in Birmingham. It is a Fullers pub situated in the premises of an old bank, and has a very, very high ceiling with wonderful friezes and decor and gargoyles. You could imagine it as being like a Victorian dance hall, men in stove-pipe hats a-plenty. The bar was set up centrally in the room, with easy access for all and tables and chairs round the outside. The toilets were also excellent. Beer range consisted of the usual Fullers London Pride, ESB and Chiswick. But they also had 1845, an over-six-percenter which Smiley had, and a fantastic porter which was distinctively flavoured but very smooth. However, prices were a little higher than hoped but this is what you have to pay for such quality.

Yet another Wetherspoons beckoned, the Briar House which was very lively and we couldn't find any seats. There were some reasonable bar staff. The beer selection was Abbot, Smiles Goldenbrew, Theakston's Best, Golden Hill Exmoor, Caledonian 80/-, Bass, Highgate Breacals and Equinox. I recall that the Breacals was superb as were the other things we tried! By this time we were traipsing around and being a bit choosy. But we did eventually find a pub doing real beer, albeit with some mad Mackams (natives of Sunderland) getting pissed after the match against West Brom. The Shakespear had very average Bass and London Pride and not much else redeeming. The final Wetherspoons of the evening had a different selection of beer again and was at Paradise Place and called 'Wetherspoons'. This was a poorly lit establishment and was crowded so wasn't an enjoyable stay, and the barmaids were nothing special. Beer choices were - Smiles Golden Brew, Dog's Bollocks, Bass, Hardy's and Hanson Guzzling Goose, Spitfire, Daleside, Fuggles IPA, Hopback Thunderstorm.

Our sensible evening was completed with a trip to Bread and Roses next door which was an odd canteen/ hygena kitchen type affair with a barmaid serving St Austell Tribute and Greene King IPA at very good prices. The place was however dire with a couple of pissed women dancing to the DJ being the only other people in there. Smiley commented that was 'awful' and 'should never be visited by choice', which I agree with. Anyway, this had used up all the available time and we retreated home to be sensible, past the now heaving Broad Street complete with the forms of life that we had predicted earlier. Or would have done, except that Smiley cracked open the single malts on arrival back at the flat which assured that I was very grumpy on Sunday.

Home
Back

Dan Lovegrove
dan@doctor-lovegrove.com

Last updated 17th November 2003.