I should have known I wasn't going to like it here. But being a fan of ye olde Victorian Railway stuff I just had to take a look. It's awful. And the punters are awful. And barstaff are... well, ok. Most of them.
As the beer fizzed and bubbled in its tall glass I noticed a lot of bits floating around, which I thought unusual for a bottled beer. A barman so me looking puzzled - "everything ok?" he asked, and I pointed out the bits. With a barely concealed contempt he said "That's the hops!". Yup. Hops. And you could almost see him saying to himself a big "DURRRR!!!!". Sigh.
After a few mouthfuls I went to the loo, and left my beer & newspaper on the bar. When I returned both had gone. Another lad, in a suit and presumably in a position of responsibility, saw me looking for my chattals. "Anything the matter?" he asked, so I told him. He clicked his fingers at another barman - "Sierra Nevada please!". The barman plonked said beer down and asked for £6.75. "He's getting it" I said. "Is he?" he said. "Yup" I said. The suited-fellow came back with my paper and apologies.
The irony is that I didn't want any more beer. I drank probably as much as I'd had left pre-loo and left.
But yeah, yeah I know, it's not a pub, it's a cocktail bar... Cocktails and nightmares!