old before your time outChoosing your poison.

A brief reason for being

Whingeing from a recumbent position, and going to the pub. Two of life's great activities.

This blog is an amalgamation of them both, as I argue the case for and against various pubs around Britain. Whoopty-do.

The thing that most people tend to know about this particular drinkery is that it boasts a large cast-iron rhinoceros’ head poking out of the south wall. The thing that some people tend not to know is that it is the place of origin of the Peter Cook Society, a coterie of drinky types dedicated to protecting the memory of that particular humourist.

The excellence of this endeavour reflects the overall excellence of the establishment. Though sometimes favoured by unfortunates with comedic asymmetric haircuts, the Three Kings has succeeded in retaining a dark, calming atmosphere, where enjoying a pint of Pride – drunk slowly – and the comments pages of one of the larger-dimensioned newspapers is not frowned upon.

Sport in pubs is usually a no-no, but the Three Kings still bears the Obyto stamp of quality for two reasons:

  • They only ever show the cricket. No blasted football.
  • They only show the cricket on small screens, not on some monstrous sheet that takes up half the pub.

In short – a pub with character, while all around seem to have fallen victim to the homogenising effects of trendiness and cost efficiency.

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