Six types of pub you should avoid like the f**king plague

HEADING down the pub? Just make sure you don’t go to any of these hellish watering holes.

Rough pub

There’s nothing more relaxing than feeling you could be glassed at any second. Luckily there are subtle warning signs that you might be in a rough pub: people with recent facial stitches; casuals in the toilets doing coke; and fights instead of having a burger and curly fries at lunchtime.

The ‘f**king hell this is expensive’ pub

You’ll know you’re in one if three glasses of wine cost almost 30 quid. Frequently gastropubs with pretensions, these could be used to set lifelong alcoholics back on the path to sobriety just from the sheer cost of drinking in them.

Upper middle class twats’ pub 

Mainly found in nice places like Hampstead and Cheltenham. The pubs themselves tend to be charming, but filled with the worst kind of affluent scum. Perfect if you want your pint to be ruined by some twat called Bruno loudly talking about his internship with Facebook while Polly and Portia shriek with laughter sycophantically.

The ultra-generic modern pub

With shiny new woodwork and some historical prints, these characterless voids are like stepping into a computer simulation of a pub. They also try to suck in every potential customer, so expect to wait at the bar for ages while pensioners take f**king forever to order a pot of tea and some fairy cakes.

Real ale twats’ pub

There’s nothing wrong with real ale, just the people who drink it. These beardo-the-weirdo types will clog up the bar area as they look for new and obscure brews, and will ask for a ‘taste’ of Old Cobbler’s Nutsack, or whatever, instead of just buying a f**king pint.

Family ‘fun’ pub

Dante’s 10th circle of Hell. If you like drinking in a filthy aircraft hangar full of screaming kids, this is the pub for you. The only upside is that you can relive your childhood by ordering fish fingers and baked beans for £1.50.


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What night this week are you down the pub?

THE UK’s pubs are open again. But which day are you down there getting pissed, and what does it say about you? 


An early adopter, you’ve been a beer garden fixture for the last month after a lockdown of heavy drinking. You’re wondering why yesterday’s pint didn’t hit differently, and it’s because booze no longer touches the sides and you wouldn’t care if you were slumped by the bins.


You avoided Monday because you didn’t want to seem desperate, and arrive at a bar packed with all the others who didn’t want to seem desperate but like you very definitely are. You’re cautious but extremely thirsty, and will be back again on Thursday.


You refer to pubs as ‘hostelries’, refer to the barman as a ‘stout yeoman’, and booked a meal to convince yourself that you’re there for the atmosphere and company, not the alcohol. Unaccustomed to the pace of public boozing, you will soil yourself and be revealed as the lightweight you are.


Now it’s getting serious. Close enough to the weekend for a hangover to be manageable, you’ve been planning your pub return for months and will fling open the double doors and pause to take the sight in. You’re a planner, love dramatics and will finish the evening with a humiliating scuffle in the car park.


Like a saint, you’ve waited a whole five days until you can get thoroughly hammered without the spectre of work the next day to stay your arm. You are patient, prudent, prone to excess and will wake up lying on a grass verge at 6am with blackbirds pecking your trousers.


You wanted to do this properly and get the full experience. Pints, shots, packets of crisps torn open for the whole table to enjoy, a tenner lost to the fruit machine, fags in the beer garden, chatting up whoever ends up next to you at the bar, a kebab on the way home, a piss in a doorway. You live life to the absolute full. Shame about your asymptomatic Covid.


A lovely lunch? No more than two glasses of wine? Bringing the kids along? People like you should be deported.