St James's Park pubs

Renamed and under new management with jazz and a restaurant upstairs. Apparently the pub is no longer much like the review. At the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dave Bowman enters the enigmatic black obelisk circling Jupiter and, after faffing about with some lights and eerie music, finds himself in what seems to be a large country house in England, only eveything is slightly odd (it is full of himself at different stages of his life, for instance). I had rather the same feeling entering this pub. Granted, I wasn't in deep space and neither was I being pursued by a murderous loony-tunes computer - although that day my boss's BlackBerry had broken and the effect can be somewhat the same - but somehow this pub, to all intents and purposes quite ordinary, didn't feel like other pubs. Maybe it's the plain white ceiling; the clean, light wooden lines; the lack of any baroque ornamentation whatsoever; or the spartan upstairs room bereft of almost anything at all, apart from some suits having a meeting and some Germans watching the football. It is in form quite traditional (built in 1683, refurbished in 1883) although catering to the upper end of the boozer market (the almost-bare upper room was advertised as a 'Restaurant and Champagne Bar'), boasting a long, narrow downstairs with windows at either end, and an upstairs of similar proportions, but at the same time something about it just isn't traditional at all. It's like a pub from a subtly different reality, and all the more compulsive for it. A fascinatingly diverse range of punters sat around chatting or watching the football, while a blackboard on one wall boasted of 'Wine Tuesdays', with a bottle of wine for £8.50. It claims to serve hand-pulled bitters, but they were all off, and the beer is otherwise all the standard stuff, but even so, for whatever indefinable reason, this is a hauntingly interesting place. Not open weekends, which is probably when whatever alien entity that controls it makes communication with the mothership. Not reviewed yet.

Want to review it? A complete fake, but I have to admit that I like it anyway. Fullers have taken the ground floor of a Victorian building and attacked it with their equaivalent of a terraforming device, creating a traditional-looking boozer with more than a hint of charm and personality. It isn't just the wood-panelled walls, the intricately recreated Regency ceiling, the dark colours and well-placed mirrors, but little touches like the fresco on the back wall of monks about their business, or the carefully thought-out layout. Serving an excellent range of Fullers' beers, decent food, with a TV and a no smoking area to boot, this is a classy joint. Rather crowded with civil servants on a Friday night, it's otherwise a laid-back, friendly place with cheerful staff. It even has a hotel above it should you miss the last tube home. "You're a bunch of Northern monkeys". As an opening conversational gambit, it's not bound to be hugely successful but nothing suggests that this "Southern Softy" means any harm so a drunken conversation ensues. After a few pints in The Speaker, all is well in the world.

In many ways, this pub is almost the archetypal pub that the Random Pub Finder is eternally looking for. It offers a rolling selection of well kept real ales, offers unpretentious food that will soak up alcohol without causing your own personal credit crunch. There is no music and, thanks to being slightly off the beaten track, is not overly busy. The bar staff are friendly without being needy. The furnishings are resolutely pub-like. But, but... There is something missing, that indefinable magic that makes a truly great pub. Something to make it memorable - unusual architecture, an interesting history, a great location, mad clientele, whatever.

That may not sound like a recommendation but it is. It may not make it into a list of the ten best pubs in London, but it's still better than about 95% of the pubs around. So says a Northern Monkey.

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