Pub no. 112, The Intrepid Fox, age ago.
Another one off with not much to say I'm afraid. If you're familiar with the pub's usual clientele you'll understand that when in my 70s vintage rocker days, long hair, big collars and flared jeans I got extremely stared in here the one time I went in to meet some lovely Swedish friends (the foxy ladies in question). I don't know what this place before it became the 'new' Intrepid Fox since it moved from the lovely old Intrepid Fox in Soho, which did have at least some charm about it this place has none, for me anyways - but it's not for me. So each to is own... but I wonder what Charles James Fox would make of it all...
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