Phil Harrison

What makes a great comedy? It could be the joke-laden script (obvs), performances that have comic timing down to a fine art, or the perfect chemistry of a vintage double act. It might be the way they’ve aged, deepening in pathos with every passing decade in ways their creators never imagined (see: Chaplin’s The Great Dictator). Equally, it could be a sense of fearlessness, of noting the likely scruples of audiences and critics and just telling their subversive jokes anyway (see: Mel Brooks’ entire CV). Sometimes, it’s about volume: throwing so many ridiculous gags at the screen that the overall effect leaves you gasping for air in between the belly laughs. There’s a reason Top Secret!, Airplane and The Naked Gun all make our list of the 100 Greatest Comedy Movies of all time.But it’s not just high-gag-rate spoofs that fill this list – there are great romcoms, satires, gross-out and teen comedies (there’s overlap there), screwballs… you name it, it’s here. With the help of comedies like Diane Morgan and Russell Howard, actors (thank you John Boyega and Jodie Whittaker, among others), directors like Richard Curtis and a small army of Time Out writers, we’ve painstaking scoured the genre’s history to cherry-pick the finest laugh machines in existence. Every taste and sense of humour is catered for here, no matter how silly or sophisticated. But if you’re not in the mood for a good chuckle right now, allow us to point you towards a few classic horrors, thrillers and action movies

Weed, pot, herb, bud, dope, skunk, hash, ganja, marijuana, indo, cheeba, chronic, dank, spliff… it's been celebrated for hundreds of years, under hundreds of names. No wonder hundreds of musicians have written songs in its illicit honour too. From reefer-puffing jazz pianists through red-eyed rockers and ripped rappers, right up to the bong-toking skate-punks of the 2010s, weed's been the catalsyt for all sorts of great music. We're not advocating drug use, obviously, but if you are getting blazed on 4/20 (a day traditionally associated with getting mellow) here's your ideal soundtrack. Did we miss out your favourite? Let us know in the comments box below or tweet us at @TimeOutMusic.

The best comedies in the history of cinema achieve more than just making you laugh (although, granted, it’s not a great comedy if it barely makes you crack a smile). Classic romcoms like ‘Notting Hill’ have us yearning for true love while teen movies like ‘Mean Girls’ get us cringing at memories of being too dorky to join the cool gang at school (and ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ ticks both boxes). Then there are the political satires, like ‘The Death of Stalin’, which serve up uncomfortable truths alongside the funnies. And finally, when we need to get into the festive spirit, the Christmas film archives are crammed with titles that leave you giggling into your eggnog.  All of which makes choosing the 100 best comedies of all time a little tricky. To help us with the task, we enlisted the help of comedians (such as Russell Howard and Diane Morgan), actors (John Boyega and Jodie Whittaker, among others), directors and screenwriters (including Richard Curtis), as well as several Time Out writers. So the next time you need something to turn that frown upside down, you’ll know where to start. RECOMMENDED:  London and UK cinema listings, film reviews and exclusive interviews

You're never far from a decent pint in London. Craft beer bars abound and proper pubs are found on every other corner. But where do you go for a proper pint of cider? You don't need to trek all the way to the West Country in search of a flagon. There's a real cider revolution going on in London, with bars and pubs across the capital pulling proper pints. From old boozers serving bag-in-box cider that'll put 'airs on yer chest to hip bars pouring easy-drinking perry, there are some brilliant pubs in London that serve craft cider - here's our pick of the bunch. 

Jason Williamson and Andrew Fearn are in a King’s Cross pub, sipping mineral water while cheerfully bombarding Time Out’s photographer with mini sausage rolls. In contrast to their uncompromising onstage demeanour as Sleaford Mods, they’re understated and friendly company. However, years of disillusionment at the blunt end of the music scene have equipped the Nottingham duo with the tools to absolutely nail a particular kind of anxious, uncontainable yet inward-facing rage that feels perfectly, terrifyingly in tune with Britain – and specifically England – in 2017.   The bleak minutiae of modern life’s rubbish – the ‘English Tapas’ of their new album’s title – is their stock-in-trade. Against the backdrop of Fearn’s brutalist beatscapes, Williamson has become the most mesmerising frontman and lyricist in recent memory, mixing unsparing observation with spectacular vernacular explosions.  After years of struggle, deep into his forties, Williamson has the air of a man whose time has finally come. Even when he’s chucking sausage rolls around.  Where did the album title ‘English Tapas’ come from? Andrew Fearn: ‘I was in a pub with my partner and “English Tapas” was written on the menu board. It was one of those independent pubs you get that try and impersonate Wetherspoon’s. They’ve had a facelift and you get a mug with a spoon with a number on it when you order food. It was a mini scotch egg, pickle, a cup of chips. That’s a new British thing, isn’t it? A cup of chips as a way o

Record shops once ruled the roost in Soho. The area’s ‘vinyl triangle’ – where I worked as a vinyl-slinger – was ultimately unsustainable but great for a while. Indie, jungle, hip hop, house, trance, electronica and jazz lovers were all catered for. And with profusion came intense competition. Guerrilla missions into opposing shops to check out prices, cheekily early launches of big releases and all manner of other machinations were commonplace. The area was also, of course, identified with particular albums. Heartbroken Oasis fans constructed a shrine outside Selectadisc on the day Bonehead announced his departure from the band and it remains common to see tourists enraging cabbies and couriers by recreating the ‘(What’s The Story) Morning Glory?’ cover in the middle of Berwick Street. The Endurance, Soho © Ewan Munro Pubs mostly catered for oddballs. Soho was never short of boozy, eccentric watering-holes – probably because it was never short of boozy eccentrics. Before it went gastro and replaced gravy with ‘jus’, The King of Corsica (later The Endurance) on Berwick Street was the epicentre of Soho’s inebriated weirdness. This picaresque establishment drew its character from a combustible mix of lairy market traders, music biz hipsters and resting thesps. Regulars included a man in a wheelchair who chain-smoked despite having a voice-box and, on one occasion, a drip. John Waters – who knows a bolthole for freaks and derelicts when he sees one – once paid a memorable Saturd