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I stumbled across this Soho pubs site, which brought back some memories. Forty eight pubs may seem too much for one evening, but you can doubtless cross off half of them as disgusting (for example, anything with Moon in the name). Half a pint in each remaining pub should be quite manageable over six hours. And look at all the healthy exercise you'll be getting. :D

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Well spotted. I am struggling to find any other omissions. The Endurance is presumably what used to be the King of Corsica (said monarch having died on the premises). Six years of my life on one web-page - how fascinating. The authors have, of course, excluded many bars on the grounds that they are not really pubs, which is fair enough. Of course, there's a school of thought that The Moon Under Whatsit is not a pub either. Personally, I don't really regard Cambridge Circus as Soho, and while Kingly Street certainly is, the pubs don't have much of a Soho atmosphere.

 

You're right about the Fitzrovia pubs historically, of course, although Samuel Smith long ago sanitized the Fitzroy and the Bricklayers. Sentimentally, I include the King's Head in Chinatown as a very Soho-type pub.

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Ah me, The Dog & Duck at the corner of Frith and Bateman :D Although until I saw that photo in the website, I had never seen the word "Hotel" emblazoned on the facia board :o Is it really a hotel, or is that just to explain why the blokes keep going upstairs with the women ? :huh:

 

I used to frequent the D&D with my brother, who worked nearby and was also an avid Spurs fan. Well it was some time ago. We used to go into the pub to gain an audience with the legendary One Arm Louie, who could deliver impossible-to-get Spurs tickets to friends and extremely wealthy people. My brother became one of the former. I remember the very large gentlemen who stood in the doorway of the D&D to whom one was invited to apply for an audience with Louie. Very large gentlemen ;)

 

And with all that, it was a jolly place which served decent beer.

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Guest Adam Lawrence
Ah me, The Dog & Duck at the corner of Frith and Bateman :o Although until I saw that photo in the website, I had never seen the word "Hotel" emblazoned on the facia board :D Is it really a hotel, or is that just to explain why the blokes keep going upstairs with the women ? :huh:

 

I used to frequent the D&D with my brother, who worked nearby and was also an avid Spurs fan. Well it was some time ago. We used to go into the pub to gain an audience with the legendary One Arm Louie, who could deliver impossible-to-get Spurs tickets to friends and extremely wealthy people. My brother became one of the former. I remember the very large gentlemen who stood in the doorway of the D&D to whom one was invited to apply for an audience with Louie. Very large gentlemen ;)

 

And with all that, it was a jolly place which served decent beer.

I like the Dog & Duck. It serves a really good pint of Taylor's Landlord, which is a great boon to any pub. One day when I have a morning meeting in London I should take the afternoon off and spend it there getting quietly sozzled.

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Let's also bear witness to its beautiful tiling (dogs hunting ducks, generally), and lovely mirrors. It's tiny, and it's a pity it was discovered by the young media crowd a few years back, and hence gets packed after work.

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Let's also bear witness to its beautiful tiling (dogs hunting ducks, generally), and lovely mirrors. It's tiny, and it's a pity it was discovered by the young media crowd a few years back, and hence gets packed after work.

Indeed, and let us also collectively lament the group of beatniks that have recently begun hanging out at the Lyons Corner House, which makes it hard to get a table in the afternoon.

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  • 1 year later...

London papers are gossiping that Norman Balon has found a buyer for the Coach & Horses, and will be out of there before Christmas. Word on the street is that he will sell it to the owner of the Maison Bertaux patisserie next door (good; because unlikely there would be major changes as a result).

 

All very surprising, as Norman's fans would have expected him to be carried out of there in a gold-plated coffin. Three pounds sixty a pint - add some diamond handles.

 

My mole behind the bar says it's a lot of talk about nothing - but I'm not so sure. Next year will be the thirtieth anniversary of my first drink in the Coach. And I never got a fucking* Christmas mug.

 

*All discussions of Mr Balon require a four-letter word for authenticity. Consider yourselves lucky it's that one.

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