The Carpenter's Arms

This was once a right naughty little boozer deep in East End gangsterland. It was bought by the Kray twins in 1967 for their dear old mum, Violet. Used by the Krays as a safe spot for a swift half, it was here that Ronnie tanked up on Dutch courage before murdering Jack 'The Hat' McVitie. The Repton Boys Boxing Club, just a few doors down, was where the brothers discovered their penchant for fisticuffs and pant-wetting intimidation. In short, it wasn't the sort of pub where you'd want to spill someone's pint.

After three years behind boards, a thoughtful revamp has kept its character and not allowed it to be entirely seduced by Cheshire Street's über-trendy 'lifestyle' boutiques. The coffin-lid bar top, supposedly installed by the Krays, may have gone but the chunky tables, swathes of dark wood and historic windows make for a cosy place in which to hunker down with a pint and perhaps plan a bank job. There's an intimate back room (with an incongruous picture of shrink-wrapped toilet roll) and a heated back garden. The only nod to the previous owners is a portrait and a menacing collection of carpenter's tools near the loos.

Free of tie, the new owners have showboated with a salivating suds selection. Home-brewed talent includes four Dorothy Goodbody ales from Hereford's wonderful Wye Valley Brewery and a pair of Adnams ales on draught. They pour alongside Germany's Licher Weizen, all bananas and bubblegum, and Früli fruit beer, sweeter than an otter in a bib. Fridge-dwelling gems includes Schneider Weiss, Paulaner, Duvel, a trio of Chimays and a deliciously indulgent dark chocolate stout from the Brooklyn Brewery in New York. Prices are steep (you won't see much change from a monkey or a pony) but they're beers worth paying for.

The entertainment? Just drinking. There's no Joanna for a good old knees-up, and sing-songs are unlikely. As yet there's no food, but that's due to change. Best seat: at the back end of the main room, blessed with good sightlines of the long, narrow bar and door. That way, if any ne'er-do-wells come in with shooters you'll see them before they see you.

The Carpenter's Arms is no longer the haunt of cockney, cobblestone crims; the regulars these days are more Thompson Twins than Kray Twins: Hoxtonites, fashionistas, the odd ironic moustache and a few ambitious hats.
Ben McFarland

Time Out online issue 1952: January 16-22 2008

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