The Dysart, 135 Petersham Rd, Petersham, Richmond

Petersham, like Ham just down the road, feels like the middle of the country, and before us on the road sat what appeared to be a magnificent country pub. By any standards a huge affair, with balconies, gables and a giant beer garden out the front, we thought we'd struck gold. Then we went inside. In what must rank as one of the most bizarre refits of all time, the interior has gone all ecclesiastical. Norman Gothic arches, medieval stone facing, and church organ pipes provide the same sort of bizarre atmosphere as many of the Irish pubs in Northern Germany, where axes hang from the walls and maidens in diaphonous gowns wander round serving guinness chilled to the point where it tastes like lager. This isn't quite so bad (although the welcoming "NO CHILDREN AT THE BAR" sign can be a little off-putting) but it's still a bit of a shock. Maybe this place will appeal to the transgressives amongst us who want to feel like they're drinking lager in a church, but I prefer my pubs to be like, well, pubs.

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