The Hungerford Arms, 240 Commercial Road

It was a Sunday night and there was time for a cheeky "after curry pint" before closing time. The problem was that we happened to be in Commercial Road, an area not known for its quality drinking establishments. Time to go through the safety checks:

1. Lower the standards to a realistic level. Check.

2. Peer through the window of the pub and see who's inside. No brooding nutcases. Check.

3. Were we too smartly dressed? We had forgotten our "Chav" uniforms but we looked passable. It was time to go in.

As we passed the threshold our ears were assaulted by the jukebox on full volume. We hurried towards the bar in a failed bid to escape the noise, all the while suppressing the urge to laugh. The bar stretched along the right hand wall in the general direction of the pool table at the back. Football banners (mostly Glasgow Rangers) cover the ceiling. The barmaid duly served us and announced that the round of three drinks would cost us the princely sum of £5.80, the same price as a mineral water in some parts of the capital. We took our drinks to the nearest available table which happened to come with an authentic set of plastic garden chairs and relaxed, or at least tried to relax. The jukebox cranked up a gear and let loose with "Everything I do I do it for You" by Bryan Adams - the extended mix (Aaargh!). There was a brief respite from the demonic jukebox and it was at this point that realised I was drinking the most watery and insipid pint of beer known to man. Ah, that's why it was so cheap. Perhaps it really was brown foamy water. The ringing of last orders and the bolting of the front door heralded a moment of hilarity. It was at this point when the jukebox went in for the kill and subjected us to a re-run of THAT song and we all began to feel like residents of Camp X-Ray in Guantanamo Bay. An evening that none of us shall forget in a long time.

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