The World's Best Pubs and Bars

[Foggy Buntwhistle]

The Southampton Arms near Gospel Oak/Kentish Town is probably the nicest boozer I've been to recently.



Just a really nice little buzzy pub. Nice friendly atmosphere and quite a mixed crowd plus a decent selection of ales and ciders. Would recommend.

New page pub.

[Nobody Soup]

Both textbook examples of the great Glasgow tradition of chopping off the top floors of an old tenement when they become derelict/too cash-draining to maintain in order to create the classic flat-roofed[nb]ideal for the local climate[/nb] bijou boozer.

If you prefer a traditional boozer which has an upper floor and isn't in the Gorbals, you might prefer The Doublet -I see this is up for sale after being in the same family since 1961 (and seemingly being largely unchanged) so hopefully it won't become some godawful hipster howff. 

this is pretty much my local and we were regulars at the tuesday quiz. which was marvelous, no stupid rules, no sports questions ever (latin names of animals, philosophy, foreign politics all regularly come up) and someone always wins. buuuuut that's it now, alasdair, the guy that did it has retired, we were at the last one 2 weeks ago, went down this tuesday and there was no one. kinda worried and a bit heartbroken.


blinder is also dead on about the Laurieston, a pub I'd avoided for years because it's menacing outside but it is tremendous.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

I'm afraid I have to disagree with your first choice Shoulders. I've been to Budapest a few times now and have nearly always found the ruin bars there, including that one, to be a bit rubbish.

They do indeed look stunning and are a hodge-podge maze of different ideas and themes. However, the vast majority of their clientèle are tourists and they feel utterly charmless because of this. They have no atmosphere, instead feeling like high-end hostel attachments rather than incredible places to drink. The music is terrible, the booze (for the area) is overpriced and they just feel like a backpackers hangout, which is never a good thing for a bar.

Someone mention some decent pubs to visit in London. I need some top local boozers.

It is touristy but to say it has no atmosphere is ridiculous. As you have been you know how ridiculous that statement is. As you say yourself, the location is incredible. The atmosphere comes from thebsurroundings and the happiness exuding from everyone. And paying 1.50 instead of a quid for a drink even for a pauper like me is negligible. A redundant comment to make in Hungary.

Most of the other ruin bars I went to had no tourists in, just Hungarians. There are plenty of bars and choices.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Huh? The photo is of the one in Hebden (well, just past Mytholmroyd).

No it isn't, it's in a hamlet called Cragg Vale south of Mytholmroyd. I hope you'll trust me on this one as I was there for a weekend in September.

[Janie Jones]

The Southampton Arms near Gospel Oak/Kentish Town is probably the nicest boozer I've been to recently.



Just a really nice little buzzy pub. Nice friendly atmosphere and quite a mixed crowd plus a decent selection of ales and ciders. Would recommend.

My favourite pub in the world. Doomy Dwyer, no less, has indicated on these boards that he frequents it, although I've never had the good fortune to see him there.

[holyzombiejesus]

No it isn't, it's in a hamlet called Cragg Vale south of Mytholmroyd. I hope you'll trust me on this one as I was there for a weekend in September.

OOOH! Jeez, you're such a pompous cunt at times.

[holyzombiejesus]

The Fox and Goose in Hebden Bridge is a super pub. The first community owned pub in West Yorkshire and there are free sausages or roast potatoes on Sundays. The only drawback is that it llos like a shithole and  smells like one too, generally of dog. Last time I was in there a dog did a shit on the floor, the owner and other regulars just laughed and no-one cleared it up for about 40 minutes.  I also saw a dog wearing a bandana in there once.

[mook]

OOOH! Jeez, you're such a pompous cunt at times.

haha. i like shoulders, but he does come across as the sort of person who feels that they would make a really rather decent magistrate.

[Doomy Dwyer]

I'd sometimes go to the Auld Triangle in Finsbury Park, London.



Not much of a looker but it's lovely inside, though very quiet. I never saw it busy.

However, you get yourself down there every Friday and you can delight yourself in listening to folk music from the musicians in the corner. They come and go, people would come and join in for a bit, others will leave to get a pint, then come back and pick up their fiddle, but the music never stops.

Lovely place.

I live round the corner from there although I've only been in once for some reason, but it was great. It was in the morning as I recall, and a man was standing outside in the drizzling rain wearing a vest, cigarette in one hand, Guinness in the other as God intended. Naturally, I was intrigued and entered the premises. There were two other people inside, a man and a lady enjoying a sharpener. The Life of Pi was playing on the screen with the sound turned down. Looked like a right load of old shit to me. The vest wearer came back in and went behind the bar. I figured him for the guv'nor. I bought a pint and sat down and the three fell into a conversation about the best slimming pills you can buy on the internet. The bloke and the lady looked like they knew their way around slimming pills. He looked like Bez's x-ray and she had the build of a breadstick with the sculpted cheekbones and peg teeth of the seasoned narcotic connoisseur. After a while she said something great. It's not particularly funny, but it was her earnestness and the delivery that made it for me. She sounded very much like Dudley Moore. She wanted to know why Mike the Vest wanted to lose weight "...  is there a woman in the mist, Mike?" she asked. I love that. "Is there a woman in the mist?" it makes no sense but it's a great image and you know exactly what it means.

My favourite pub in the world. Doomy Dwyer, no less, has indicated on these boards that he frequents it, although I've never had the good fortune to see him there.

The Southampton Arms is a fine boozer. Craft beer but with an acceptable amount of wankery. Piano, nice mix of locals and the occasional hound. If I ever see you in there Janie I'll buy you a scotch egg.



This is The Mars Bar in New York New York's East Village it's not a village. I don't know whether its still there and if it is it'll be shit now. I was there in 2008 when I wrote this load of overblown shite about a perfect drunken afternoon I spent drunk there. It's not very good and I wouldn't recommend you read it, but it's the first time I've read it in years and it made me feel like crying because I'm all dead inside now and I was alive then. I'm putting it here for the old me - 

This hidden gem, discreetly tucked away on one of the East Villages leafiest thoroughfares  is one of New Yorks best kept secrets. Festooned as it is with obscene graffiti and cryptic hieroglyphs, torn barstools, dismal lighting and truly diabolical toilet facilities, it's one for the whole family to enjoy. Add to this heady cocktail a ragged collection of semi-conscious, intermittently coherent, dead eyed afternoon drunks and junkies who are only too happy to spend an afternoon or two  inexpertly leering at the archetypal bleach-blonde, pierced, studded, tattooed ambivalent metal-head bar-girl and you're in white trash heaven.
You'll meet Ray, an old school wino and bon viveur who is able to lurch dangerously between sates of reasoned, informed, articulate debate and lolling, belligerent incontinence at the drop of a wine glass. Ray's a man who appreciates the finer things in life, like drinking, smoking and invoking a slightly unnerving anticipation of uncalled for physical or verbal violence in the person he's sitting closest to.  His beaten, saggy face hangs wearily from his greasy skull as though his skin is approximately two sizes to large for him. He seems to exist under a harsher gravity to everybody else in the room. Indeed for such a skinny booze-thin man there appears to be an enormous weight about Ray as though time is a burden of guilt, an invisible load set upon him by some giant unseen git. When Rays mood lightens, usually after a short unplanned nap when he's able to briefly forget who he is for an instant, he'll engage in racy banter with Jennifer the barmaid which will gradually, inevitably descend into a pornographic discourse on what he's going to do to the lucky lady when he gets half a chance. These are the moments when they are both happiest, moments of badly concealed self loathing, desperation and unapologetic sexual frankness.  Ray's cleverer than you realise and has a surprisingly tuneful singing voice. Jennifer looks like she would. But probably wouldn't.
There's the usual flurry of hopeful wastrels, already drunk on the never changing, never fading sense of unfettered naughtiness that comes with a really good impromptu semi-illicit afternoon session, when the intense feeling of comradeship, empathy and belonging is as tangible in the air as the scent of the stale beer and unwashed clothes that permeates the room. Golden sentences are spun, stories are woven and lies are knitted in glorious multi-coloured fabrics. Everyone is a genius recognised by his peers, there's an unspoken kinship here, a closeness among strangers thrown together, united in the pursuit of the great numbness. Matters are earnestly, knowledgeably and passionately discussed, politicians, policemen and bosses are damned finally and furiously, only the things that really matter matter now. Secrets are spilled, there's nothing and no reason to hide here. This is the moment, there's nowhere better to be. Other strangers wander in and are instantly recognised for the kindred spirits they are, the conversations never miss a beat, there's a beautifully fragile rhythm here and now. Don't look too closely.
Iain the ex-pat Englishman enters with Dick the Plumber. Iain's already drunk and Dicks an obvious cartoon junkie. He may have really been a plumber in some long forgotten life but now he'll fix your pipes for the price of a fix. He looks like the last two decades have passed him by.  There's an electrical current  running through his body,  he has a fantastic, enviable head of hair and no eyes. He's making little men out of little straws, molding and shaping them with the druggy flame on his lighter. An artist in a room full of artists. He's in the employ of Iain the Englishman, a fly by night character who flew in twenty years ago and forgot to fly out again. He's the chancer that lives in every pub, a liar, boastful, friendly, overly inquisitive, some would say nosey. He evaluates you as he talks, he's a weights and measures man. He weighs up what you're worth and measures how far he can take you. He can always help you out. He has absolutely no tact or discretion, never tell him anything. He's a good person to know, just don't tell him where you live. He's an organiser, he gets things done, he's fearless and charming. He'll tell you this himself.
A huge ruddy faced business type walks in as incongruous as a turd in a fruitbowl. He seems to know the barmaid. He stays for a swift whiskey and leaves quietly. She says he's an S&M freak. His thing is he likes to be dominated and humiliated while he does your housework. Seems like a fair deal.
Sickday excuses are rehearsed, nobody wants to leave but they know they've really got to go back. To work, wife, husband, life. But for now they're outside all of that. Outlaws in the badlands, untouchable, immortal and pure. They're drunk, immaculate and proud. They'll go when they're ready. Excuses are swapped and tested for feasability. They'll quit the job, say the car's broken down, they've worked late, they've got the shits, both ends going. But truth stalks the room and it's brought a guest.
Reality is here, it's sneaked in the door uninvited. It's upset the bars rhythm but everybody pretends not to notice. The final desperate drink is ordered,  the one to break the spell, the one too many. There are silences now, while everyone reflects on what's past, on what they just shared, on the warmth they just experienced. It's gone now and it's time to go too. Maybe to the next bar.




The Vigo Inn. This isn't there any more. This is where I grew up and became a Man. I was there for births, deaths, good times and bad. I fell in love there, I got my heart broken there. I saw blood shed there. I had a gun held to my head in there. The first time I ever publically shat myself was in there. Fucking hell. Halcyon days.



It used to have a game called Dadlums which was like skittles but fucking noisier. It was a right pain in the arse, particularly when you had a hangover, which I did from 1988 - 2005. That picture was taken in 1995, Blur had just beaten off Oasis to the number One slot with Country House and in two years time we'd have a Labour government, what could possibly go wrong? I'm the cunt on the left wearing a beret, by the way.

[Sam]

The Warren House Inn on Dartmoor.

The Blisland Inn on Bodmin Moor.

[hummingofevil]

Newcastle is full of ace pubs and I'm not talking about stag do shite and lasses with skirts up their arse. Most of us (well I'm adopted but you know) even wear coats.

Personal Favourites:

- The Free Trade Inn
- Bodega
- Baccus

Most people's favourites:

- Cumberland Arms
- Crown Posada
- Stawberry etc.

Special mention to The Free Trade though. Amazing beers, independently run, pop up amazing food now usually twice a week (special mention to The Skream Pizza van) and way ahead of the curve for decent beer and newer trends. In last three weeks they've had a their 4th Annual Sour Festival and this week it was all Smoked stuff (which I'm not a fan of but hey ho). Toilets are fucking awful in a good way and finally you got the view. Oh yes...

[hummingofevil]

[El Unicornio, mang]

Yeah that's a good one. Very nice on a summer's day too. I usually go to the Head of Steam and The Telegraph.

I went to a place called the Innertown Pub in Chicago last night. It's everything you could possibly want in an American dive bar. Garish decor, 80s arcade machines, pool table, cheap drinks, mix of older regulars and younger hipster types, and a guy who walked around selling hot tamales (apparently he comes through every night).



Google street view interior walk around:

https://www.google.com/maps/@41.9012821,-87.6760933,3a,75y,177.9h,65.58t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sZMzR2IznkBTBaSzr2OqURg!2e0!3e2!7i13312!8i6656

[MuteBanana]

Newcastle is full of ace pubs and I'm not talking about stag do shite and lasses with skirts up their arse. Most of us (well I'm adopted but you know) even wear coats.

Personal Favourites:
- Bodega
- Baccus

I looked up Baccus when looking for places to drink. Bit too expensive though as I was on a budget. Possibly looked up Bodega too as the name rings a bell but didn't go to either in the end.

[Nice Relaxing Poo]

Love The Free Trade. Also like The Tyne Bar and The Cluny.


I always found Newcastle to be a little bit lacking in the kind of places I like though, too much catering to the gelled hair/Ralph Lauren shirt brigade.

[MuteBanana]

I came across mostly old man pubs there. The only two whose name I remember are Head of Steam and the Union Rooms, a Wetherspoons.

[kittens]

anyone said spoons yet

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

I think there is a wide demand for a stripped back simple pub among some young people. The kind that does a pub quiz and a folk music night. Not necessarily one with music on either. A simple talking-hole. If they want to stock their Cloudberry IPAs let then but there should also be a 4.1% bitter available.  Can't be on those thin strong fuckers all night, that's not session drinking.

And a washing machine in the middle of the room.

[MuteBanana]

anyone said spoons yet

The Spoons in town is my favourite. Nothing to look at, not been in there since the refurbishment, but cheap beer and wifi suits me. Upstairs toilets can do one though. Stairs and toilets. What are they thinking?

[Paul Calf]

The Blue Bell, York.



Interior hasn't been renovated since the 1940s, they favour regulars at the bar and women weren't allowed in the front bar until 1992.


Weird place, and so small I very rarely get a drink in there. You'd get about 50 people in there and it'd be rammed.

[thraxx]

Downstairs in Bradley's Spanish Bar on Hanway Street and the Crow Bar.  That is all.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

After an evening in a pub in Lublin where I was warmly invited by some of the regulars and the bar staff to sit at the bar and chat I now know a lot more about PIWNY the Polish CAMRA and even more about human nature. Poles are among the more reserved, I would say, but I won't forget their pro-active interest in what I was doing there and basic cross-cultural similarities, which are as mundane as they are shocking.

[An Actual Propeller]

Love The Free Trade. Also like The Tyne Bar and The Cluny.

I always found Newcastle to be a little bit lacking in the kind of places I like though, too much catering to the gelled hair/Ralph Lauren shirt brigade.

Depends where you go - there's hardly anywhere worth a pint in the centre of town these days, and the The Free Trade, Cluny, and Tyne all reside in the Ouseburn area which probably has only a couple of years left until gentrification fucks it right over.

Newcastle pubs worth a punt:
* Everywhere in the Ouseburn (in order of preference: Free Trade, The Tyne, Tanners, Cluny, Ernest, The Ship Inn, Cumberland Arms)
* City Centre area: Newcastle Arms, Bodega, Bacchus, The Old George, Bridge Hotel, Lady Grey's, The Trent House, Crown Posada
* Outside City Centre: Lonsdale, The Millstone, The Collingwood

[Madam Sexchrist]

Grove Inn, Huddersfield





This is a fairly obvious choice for me because it's the only pub I go to. If I were to ask myself to describe its remarkable selection, in a way that your puny human minds could understand, I would say that its length and depth is about the cumulative size of 10 swimming pools or a lifetime's collection of 8,000 Blake 7 DVDs. This is why nobody, not even me, asks me anything.

The website can do all the speaking very well: http://www.thegrove.pub/in-the-grove/. And there's this bit in the Guardian here: http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2011/aug/29/top-10-craft-beer-pubs-bars.

"Train tickets booked in readiness for my next visit to the real ale capital of England," writes one fan on the Grove's Facebook page. It's the only pub of its kind in Huddersfield, says the landlord, but has single-handedly turned the city into a destination for craft beer enthusiasts across the country and beyond. New Huddersfield microbrewery Magic Rock is among those represented on 18 rotating ale taps. There's a further 20 or so keg beers, and more than 230 in bottles. If that isn't enough, take your pick from more than 100 different Scotch whiskies.

• 2 Spring Grove Street, 01484 430113, groveinn.co.uk/now.htm

I haven't decided how friendly the place is yet. Not enough of a regular there, nor in the north (anymore), to make a good judgement of it. Nobody's stabbed me yet, which is a point in its favour, the staff[nb]Fell in love with two of them. Bloody gorgeous— young and enviously pretty, with loose sweeps of dark brown hair. Duke would approve.[/nb] aren't surly or hoity-toity - quite the opposite, in fact - and there's a full, healthy spectrum of drinkers: students, workers, beer geeks, retiring wall-huddlers, footie fans. You can eat crickets. Chocolate ones. Never tried them. Don't.

[hummingofevil]

Depends where you go - there's hardly anywhere worth a pint in the centre of town these days, and the The Free Trade, Cluny, and Tyne all reside in the Ouseburn area which probably has only a couple of years left until gentrification fucks it right over.

Newcastle pubs worth a punt:
* Everywhere in the Ouseburn (in order of preference: Free Trade, The Tyne, Tanners, Cluny, Ernest, The Ship Inn, Cumberland Arms)
* City Centre area: Newcastle Arms, Bodega, Bacchus, The Old George, Bridge Hotel, Lady Grey's, The Trent House, Crown Posada
* Outside City Centre: Lonsdale, The Millstone, The Collingwood

Howay Son, be careful what you say!!! "Hardly anywhere worth a punt" apart from the dozen pubs you list. We totally spoiled man!!! Newcastle has more actually great pubs per square inch than anywhere else. We don't always get it because we numb to the fact but it's something to be celebrated.

I think the summary is if you want to come to Newcastle and drink in hen-do mega-bars or shit spoons-pubs then you will easily find them but if you want great beer, food and company you can slowly work your way down from Monument to ouseburn without destroying your bank balance.

[hummingofevil]

P.s. I'm driving in Wednesday. You want picking up? Xx

[MoonDust]

Grove Inn, Huddersfield

I've been in here once before.

Lovely little place!

[Bobby Treetops]

I've got mates who live up in Glasgow, so visit there on frequent occasions. As a general rule of thumb I don't go into the pubs that I can't see in to, is this right thing to do? I'm probably missing on a lot great boozers up there.

Anyway maybe not the greatest pub in the world but my local when I lived in Camberwell was The Hermits Cave.



It was the only that in Camberwell frequented by a cross section of the local community, so you'd have some old boys drinking Guinness and playing dominoes at one table, next to a bunch of squatter types, next to some Yuppies on a day trip from Clapham, with some Reebok classic clad lads from the local estate propping up the bar, and everyone seem to get on well with each other. Also a pub you'd often find yourself getting into a good old drunken debate with a complete stranger. It also had a potman how was allegedly in his 90s, but you had to be on your guard with him as he'd have you pint glass away if you left less than a quarter of a pint unguarded. I haven't been there years but I fear this has now been refurbished and overrun with baying twats who have come down to watch the rugger[nb]Much like what has become of the once great Duke Of Edinburgh in Brixton[/nb]

Mac Bar in Hiroshima was discussed on a previous thread about Japan so I paid a visit when I was out there last year.

Here's the man himself with his CDs.



I spent a happy evening in there listening to Pere Ubu and Devo albums as I'd requested for Mac to play from his collection, I don't think Dub Housing went down to well in there.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

I would like to visit the Grove in Huddersfield though I'm wary of pubs that try amd serve more than 5 or six cask ales, even the popular ones seem to struggle to turn them all over quick enough to keep them fresh.

The Closed Shop in Sheffield's selling point is 8 cask ales on tap but due to the non-existant footfall they don't get consumed and the ale starts going off badly. Great pub but if they stopped religiously sticking to their supposed USP they would be able to serve a few fresh ales rather than 5 that have gone badly off.

Huddersfield, Halifax and Sheffield are ridiculousy good ale towns though, overall.

[Blue Jam]

Yeah that's a good one. Very nice on a summer's day too. I usually go to the Head of Steam and The Telegraph.

I like the Head of Steam in Durham, not been to the Newcastle one, I thought it was meant to be a bit rough. Then again the Durham one does get a bit horrible on Saturday nights.

My thoughts on Edinburgh pubs are here:


http://www.cookdandbombd.co.uk/forums/index.php/topic,48923.msg2585620.html#msg2585620

...and I'll add a couple of updates:

1. The Reverie was on my "avoid" list after the last meal Mr Jam and I had there when they took an hour to serve me some undercooked pork. Shortly after this visit it closed down and it is now under new ownership and being refurbished. Perhaps this is why the staff didn't seem to give much of a toss the last time I was there, and perhaps it will be vastly improved when it reopens. The interior has been completely stripped out and it will probably look totally different, so if they've got new staff I may give it another chance.

2.  When I was in The Stockbridge Tap a few weeks ago, an inordinate number of spaniel owners were in- I counted at least nine spaniels, and at least four dogs of various other breeds, before losing count at that total of 13. It was great, especially the springer spaniels who were mental and more entertaining to watch than sport on big screens. The beer wasn't bad either- the pub is another CAMRA winner and they had Fallen Brewing's Blackhouse smoked porter on the last time I went- so go there.

In Tokyo my "regular" was Beer Pub Camden- not a tourist trap "English Pub" as the name suggests, but what a Brewdog pub would be like with the smugness stripped out. Apparently the owner is a Scot and a fan of Brewdog who missed being able to get British beers in Tokyo so he opened a bar and started importing them. It offers a very necessary service- I just found it very comforting to be able to buy a St Peter's Cream Stout in the middle of Tokyo. There's a big map of Scotland on the wall and the staff were always friendly, asking me about Edinburgh and Gareth Bale and teaching me bits of Japanese. Good music too. The one I went to is now known as Beer Pub Camden East, a West branch recently opened on the opposite side of Ikebukuro station:

http://beerpubcamden.com/