The female staff in this pub are a joke. If they're not sulking or pouting on a quiet evening trying to insist you pay for gassy froth they just pulled from the bottom of a barrel, they're messing around, dropping glasses and spilling pints as punters await patiently for their drinks at a packed bar. Either way, serving you is a major inconvenience to them. This pub is not alone in this regard, but the standard of service is one of the worst I've encountered in London.
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Posted: Wed Aug 3 2011
The bass notes pounding through the pub floor into the soles of your shoes, the spiky-haired twentysomethings, the scattering of gob-smacked students from the continent – it could only be Camden.
This old local has been transformed into a DJ and music venue with room for a serious number of punters in the main bar, the large garden (accessed via a short flight of steps) and a sassy upstairs space, complete with a neon sign knowingly admitting that this is ‘a tarted-up pub’.
On offer are pints of Amstel, Moretti and Guinness, bottles of Modello, Leffe and Tiger, and ten wines. Music tends towards educated indie dance, with the likes of Richard Fearless and Jon Carter sometimes behind the decks. The food is useful for lining the stomach in a bar where excess is not so much tolerated as encouraged.