52.
Chris Walker's 30th Birthday and some of the vilest pubs known to man in Clapham Junction,
Chris Walker, erstwhile resident of the
Department of Earth Sciences, University of Oxford, office T4, was having a
30th birthday bash in a branch of O'Neill's in Clapham
Junction, and despite the pissing weather, Dave Wacey
and I decided to attend. During the day I had spectated
on a football match at Crescent Rovers FC, a 4-2 victory over Cranleigh during which me and my dad managed to get some
shelter under a balcony and see some rare gems of goals, notably a Crescent one
in which the opposing goalkeeper was distracted trying to return a ball to an
adjoining pitch, and another where the same goalkeeper was lobbed from the
touchline. Anyway, they also had a bar there, though there was no beer, and I
had a quick half before the match which was OK. The bar is not as dire as some
I can think of but isn't worth a deliberate trek to get to. Though if you do, a
word of caution; the floor of the gents' slopes ferrociously
towards the trough. I am sure pissed people have had accidents here and slid
in.
After bolting some dinner and heading for Raynes Park station, Dave Wacey
rang to inform me that he was delayed owing to adverse traffic conditions in
the Shepherds Bush area so I took the opportunity to grab a quick half in the Raynes Park Tavern, a glorious Saturday evening South
London boozer of a pub, with a high ceiling and ornate decor. It wasn't a
wonderful place to drink, but I at least managed to get in a half of Ruddles County - further options in the shape of 6X, Directors
and Bombardier made for a better than expected range. A quick train ride later
and I met Dave at Clapham Junction, and we elected to
commence the proceedings at the Windsor Castle, a pub with two rooms, though
neither is very nice. We were in the smaller one which was wooden panelled and had some pissed punters playing darts loudly.
Not so many seats either. The Bombardier was below average quality, but above
average price. I imagine that the Courage Best, the only other beer, was
similar. We didn't like this place so left quickly.
We had read on the Beer In The Evening site that the Meyrick
Arms was a place to be avoided. Sadly, we had to go in as there was bugger all
else in the area. A sign in the doorway informs those that have been barred
that should they try to enter, the police will be called. Despite this, it was
reasonably quiet inside although there were a few dodgy punters on the pool
table, and the toilets were grim. There was also no beer, so we had Websters Green Label. Towards the end of the half, a few
more tasty characters had walked in including one enormous shaven headed
goateed fokker (a bit like Stone Cold Steve Austin)
who was looking in our direction - we decided that the time had come to depart.
The Wetherspoons up the road was about the only
decent pub, and again was pretty much a standard Wetherspoons offering. We
liked it because the atmosphere was non-threatening. In fact we liked it so
much that we stayed for a second pint. The beer choice wasn't quite as
extensive as it could have been, and we shunned Directors, London Pride, Abbot,
Spitfire and Courage Best in order to have some Titanic Advent ale which was
nice, if a little chewy - just how a winter ale should
be.
Finally it was time to see Chris, who was
occupying the upstairs room at O'Neill's. These pubs are awful at the best of
times, mainly because there is no beer and you are forced to drink expensive
Guinness. This pub had been open since 8am for the rugby world cup, and some of
these people were still there, incredibly arseholed
and dancing on tables. The sight that greeted us was carnage - tons of broken
glass on the floor, mixed with London grime that had been trodden in from the
wet street outside. By closing time, the gents (and much of the lower floor)
were a sea of human filth. A stack of Guinness glasses had been lain in the trough, the floor was covered in mud, beer and
piss, and there was no way that I was going to use the cubicle as the seats had
been broken and the pans were covered in chunder. Absolutely revolting. Chris was on top form and it was only
this that kept us in this godforsaken shithole.
Ironically, at Chris's 25th I presented him with a tile from the Lamb and Flag
gents' toilets. This time I could have presented him with a seat. Still,
all part of the Clapham experience I suppose ...
Dan
Lovegrove
dan@doctor-lovegrove.com
Last updated 1st December 2003.