The Punch Bowl

Amid the many maze-like mews of Mayfair, the Punch Bowl has been slaking the thirst of posh peeps since the eighteenth century, when Georgian drinkers would fill their laughing gear with enormous bowls of boozy punch - hence its name. It must still be all right as Madonna wants to buy it. Oh, wait, it says here that now she doesn't… Anyway, there are flowers and hanging baskets on the outside, while inside there's dark wooden panelling, candles wedged in champagne bottles and artwork that ups the nostalgia ante (bet Madge loves that). The regulars are hardly the 'Lock, Stock' crowd, mind you: chinless suits rock back and forth on their shiny shoes, clutching their pints to their chests, while the bar staff dismiss endless Madge speculation with an impressively straight bat.

On the beer front there's no sign of Timothy Taylor's Landlord - the 'Material Girl's' favourite - but there's Courage Best, Charles Wells Bombardier and Old Speckled Hen on hand-pull. To soak it up there's Kentish sausage and mash, shepherd's pie and stone-baked pizzas.
Ben McFarland. Photography Nina Kelly

Time Out Issue 1963: April 3-9 2008

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