Pillars Of Hercules

there are some pubs that add up to much more than the sum of their parts ... this is one of them. there is absolutely nothing to recommend it any more than a million other places, but for some reason it has a warm fuzzy provokingness about it ... why? apparently, danny la rue lives on the top floor of the foyles bookshop building just behind, rumour goes that on a quiet night, you can hear him clippety clipping along the corridors, sobbing into a false boob ....

And you're not having to pay too much for your pint either which is a great relief in this particular part of town. Lots of nooks and crannies inside where you should be able to hide from all the hustle and bustle.

Perfect escape from the trendy wine bars, strip clubs, tourist traps, gay bars, bears dens and theme driven hostelries of Soho - which to be frank can be like a minefield when you just want a quiet pint of an evening.

This is a pub. They serve beer.

By virtue of not falling into the above categories, and sitting just out of sight of the more touristy venues, the Pillars is also not as overcrowded as other pubs in the area. You may struggle to get a seat at first, and it is a pretty small pub to stand up in, but there is a high enough turnover of customers to ensure that you can settle down for a comfortable evenings drinking if you hang around for awhile.

The downside is that the toilets are in a pretty dire state and, since the smoking ban no longer disguises it, you can smell them in the pub.

Soho pub The Pillars of Hercules at 7 Greek Street here you will be served by a charming Aussie girl. 2 pints of real ale at £2.75 a pint was the best value of that day.

At first I sat inside over hearing conversations one where a man kept telling another man he knew a mathematician. On the other table a man kept telling a women he had done this that and the other. After a while of this I decided to stand out side where there are no chairs.

I gave directions to four groups of lost souls. Then a man came up and shook my hand before going inside the pub. At this time it started to rain very heavily so I went inside as well. The man whom shook my hand was drinking a half pint of Fosters larger. He informed me he was some one whom claimed the ‘dole cheque’ he had been to Australia and had Grand children in other words he was a crushing bore. After drinking two my pints I decided to go.