Ye Olde Cock Tavern, Fleet Street

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

Went there last night as part of a function, works pub quiz. Took ten minutes to get served the first round. Their Kronenbourg was in a Fosters pump (so they claimed). Pissy, sharp warm house white. Oh well, nowhere is perfect. Second round took FIFTEEN minutes to get served (I timed it), this on a quietish Thursday night. The young barman appeared to be entirely unfamiliar with the bar. No large wine glasses left, so was served a small glass filled to the brim, to carry upstairs. Yeah, thanks for that. Prepaid food was brought round for the function; nasty onion rings, flat soggy chips, three pieces of garlic bread for a four person table. Details were awful. No salt in the shaker, our ketchup bottle was empty. "Can we have some ketchup please?" "We're fucking rushed off our feet, the lifts are broken, and I'd have to go down two floors and back up again to get it." That'll be a no then. No-one cleared a glass from any of our tables in two and a half hours - not one.

I hear in the glory days of Fleet Street this was a gossipy newspaper tavern as fine as the Cheshire Cheese or the Old Bell. To leave a pub short-staffed and badly run when there were two functions booked is just insulting. The other function was a party of American students, and I wonder what sort of time they had. If that was on their itinerary as 'a visit to a classic British pub', then the landlords should be prosecuted for embarrassing the nation.

24 Jun 2011 18:02