Barking pubs

East London’s lunatic fringe, isolated from the rest of the capital by the sweeping arc of the North Circular. Legendary market and notoriously extremist politics, coupled with drunken lunatics milling around the giant metal sheds that pass for nightclubs in the area, can make for an incendiary Saturday night mix.

The Spotted Dog, 15 Longbridge Road, Barking, IG11 8TN

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This attractive establishment started out life as the Spotted Dog Hotel in around 1870. The first landlord, the hearing impaired Edward Maynard, met his untimely end under a train at Barking Station. One of the numerous extensions that this building has undergone revealed a secret tunnel which was used for smuggling contraband from the river. That's the history bit over and done with. Fast forward to 1993 and a younger version of me frequented this pub after watching "Billy Bonds' Claret and Blue Army". Enormous balding men with tattoos and tight fitting Hammers shirts crammed into the place for a post match discussion on the performances of Bish and "poorly" Morley. Given my association with the place I couldn't resist the urge to come back here for a review. Well, the sawdust on the floors is still there, but the place seemed much bigger. Probably down to the fact that its not crammed with burly men in claret and blue. There are two substantial bars together with innumerable functions rooms. The clientele comprised a mixture of office workers and old geezers drinking away their pensions. Being a Davy's pub they have Old Wallop amongst the draught beers and a whole range of fortified wines. After buying my pint, I grabbed a table and began to quietly read my book. Just minutes later, I discovered why Barking is so-named. A gnome like man sat opposite me, " Joomine dif I see-ere", said the bearded loon. I looked up and instinctively uttered the words "Yeah, no problem mate". As the words escaped my lips I realised I'd just made a big mistake. My companion's face was reddened with 40 years of hard drinking. His eyes, bloodshot, flickered from left to right in a doomed attempt to focus on me. A glass of port and a book sat in front of him on the table. After my initial acknowledgement I decided it would be best to return to my book. However this was a futile exercise. He clearly must have felt neglected as he tried to catch my attention by emitting a series of grunting noises rather like a Tourette's sufferer. I attempted to engage him in conversation but to no avail. He was just too drunk. An old man on the next table looked up and made a remark to the drunk about the weather. I saw this as my cue to leave. Now I know why I don't drink in Barking.

Reviewed by Paul Melton, Aug 2004

Telephone: 020 8594 0228

Nearest station: Barking, Zone 4 (120 metres)