Brewdog

'Beer for punks', snarls Brewdog's slogan. Does that mean you have to spit it out? Fortunately not. The job of a punk, if that's not an oxymoron, is to piss off the establishment, and Fraserburgh microbrewery Brewdog does that by creating antiestablishment craft beers that gob in the face of convention.

The brewery was launched in 2007 by a pair of young Scottish entrepreneurs, and extremely clever marketing (plus brilliant products) has seen it expand into a multimillion-pound business which is the toast of intrepid drinkers everywhere.

Brewdog has also publicly criticised real-ale guardian Camra, branding it anachronistic and blind to the possibilities of craft keg beer: a bold gesture that did its profile no harm at all.

This is the fourth Brewdog pub - the others are in Scotland - and it follows the unorthodox ethos of its parent brand. The interior has been stripped back to bare bricks and steel; signs are chalked on the walls; staff wear hats (indoors!).

It's the best place in London to sample the genuinely groundbreaking output from the Aberdeenshire upstarts. Trashy Blonde, 77 Lager and the amber 5am Saint are creative takes on standard styles.

There is also Paradox Smokehead, an imperial stout aged in Scotch whisky barrels; the 55 per cent ABV End of History (its bottles inserted into small taxidermied animals); and the 2.8 per cent Blitz - a meek beer brewed to avoid the taxes higher percentages invoke.

This is no brewery tap, though - the owners recognise the achievements of others too, and the fridges are stiff with the sort of stouts, porters and ales that make beer such exciting stuff at the moment.

If your own taste for the hops is very powerful, you'll be delighted by the offerings from Flying Dog, Ballast Point, Lagunitas, Baird, Mikeller, Stone, Nogne Ø, Hitachino Nest, Great Divide… it's a real connoisseur's list.

Interestingly, and perhaps provocatively, there's nothing at all from other British microbreweries, although I've seen Kernel beers in another branch.

On our visit, two of the barmen leapt up on the bar at one point, silenced the crowd and proceeded to promote the virtues of a newly tapped barrel, suggesting Brian Flanagan in 'Cocktail' but with fewer awkward couplets.

In a normal pub this would be annoyingly eccentric; here it feels like part of a mission to drag quality beer out of the realms of reverence and make it fun. Never mind the macrobrews: Brewdog's the bollocks.