London

Bottoms up: Grant Simmonds tests beer using his trousers

The ale conner
Ale conners might well have the most coveted job in London: they test the quality of new ales. The job goes back to Roman times, but when the Corporation of London was established in the nineteenth century it was kept going as a specifically City tradition. Today, four conners, including Grant Simmonds, 52, each test ales in the City two to three times a year – usually when a new pub opens, or when it puts on a new ale. It’s a purely ritualistic process now, and has no legal bearing on the pub.

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‘In medieval times, they used to hang a sign outside the pub to advertise it if it was a new pub, or if a new ale had been brewed. Then they’d call the conners to test the ale and check it was being served in the right measures.

‘First I taste the ales. Then a pint of ale is poured on a wooden bench and I have to sit down on it in the leather breeches that we wear especially for the occasion. After one minute I stand up. If ale does not stick to the breeches, it is not the right consistency. Afterwards I announce: “I proclaim this ale good quality. God save the Queen.” And everyone proceeds to get merry. No pub has failed the test yet.

I am the longest-serving ale conner: I’ve done the job for about 20 years. I was working at the Corporation of London and learned about the conners. One of the older conners was retiring and asked if I’d like to fill his boots. We are then formally elected in an annual vote on Midsummer Day. I get paid £10 a year in two £5 instalments – which just about buys me a pint these days.

‘We wear seventeenth-century-style garb: a black cloak, bi-corner hat and, of course, the breeches. I hire them from a costume shop, and get the clothes cleaned afterwards.

‘Maintaining the tradition is important. There are a couple of lads in their twenties who have said “When you hang up your breeches, can we do it?” Real ale is easier to get in the City than it was ten years ago – Timothy Taylor’s Landlord is one of the best, and for a traditional City pub, you can’t beat the Old Doctor Butler’s Head on Mason’s Avenue [near Bank or Moorgate tube].’