It's claimed the royal trio of the name turns out to be Elvis, Henry VIII and King Kong, a suitably eccentric trio for this most excellent of pubs, although in truth the building predates the first and latter by more than 100 years. A fibreglass rhino head, autographed baseball photographs, twinkling fairy lights, a plaster of Paris Egyptian dog, old maps of Islington and a roaring fire provide the decor inside the intimate main room, as landlord Deke Eichler and his team of chummy, quietly efficient bar staff pour pints of decent ale and generous glasses of wine to garrulous Clerkenwell types and their associated along-for-the-ride pals.
There’s a gentle music theme to the place: the Monday-night music quiz is fiercely competitive and amusingly difficult, while the underused upstairs room contains a vinyl jukebox crammed with fabulous old sides that run from rare funk to unironic soft rock.
The food’s good enough and fairly priced; keep your eyes peeled for the occasional themed DJ nights (freak folk, classic jazz) on Saturdays. A gem.