The Prince of Wales, Elephant & Castle, SE1

This place dates from at least the late 18th century, but I suspect that it was rebuilt around the end of the 19th, with some decent vestigial Watney’s signage clinging on for dear life to a couple of windows. On entering, there’s nothing of any heritage value, though I wasn’t expecting any; with a modern laminate floor, it’s brightly lit, semi-modern furniture – with ugly sauce bottles to tables – shades of grey colour scheme, games machine and curtains to the lower windows, looking a bit downmarket. A pool table takes up about 80% of the front room, meaning that getting to the bar means you must wait patiently until players have taken their shot; you can easily get jabbed in the back with a cue when queuing at the bar. On high, there were two TVs showing women’s kickboxing, copious quantities of blood pouring from their noses and mouths and just the sort of thing I love to see in a pub, but never mind, because when I cast my eyes downwards, there was a multitude of little children gambolling about underfoot late evening. Customers were generally youngish, feral and a bit chavvy, with much ink on display, some women in party frocks with spray on tans and many fairly drunk. Men here were seemingly quite testosterone fuelled and I wasn’t sure if much of the banter I overheard amounted to actual threats; was something about to kick off? There’s a room to the rear which I didn’t explore as I wanted a clear line of sight to the exit, to which I made a beeline upon necking my half of Stella (£2.80) served in relay by three nice barmaids. This is a very poor pub, probably the worst in SE1, which even the students avoid. And they’re prepared to put up with the Rockingham across the road…