The Dursley Arms, Trowbridge

Might have been a nice place years ago but it isn't now. Dingy interior with the guts knocked out of it, accompanied by the smell of damp dogs and staleness. A gaping maw to the right with a dart board and loud televised snooker. Higgledy-piggledy seating to the left with a small and mildly appealing alcove. Three stripped pumps so a keg Stowford Press had to suffice. A swarm of flies in the gents, of course. Every day must feel like a Sunday in here. Dire – it could do well if someone put the effort in but based on this visit I suspect it isn’t long for this world.