Yates, Manchester

A purpose built box with no features at all. Full of hen nights when I visited which means that it sounded like a crate of mice had been emptied into the pub. Only 1 ale on the bar which was Hobgoblin. I tried to get a quick half, but failed as it was so busy with only 2 staff on. Dreadful.

Charmless chain pub with no distinguishing features that I could see. Actually, it wasn't too bad when I first went in with most groups chatting over glasses of wine and some customers eating. However, the expected loud, busy and transient atmosphere soon developed as the nearby offices started to empty out. Three handpumps, with two badged as Yates's Best Bitter and one offering a drinkable pint of Bombardier (which with a cheesburger and portion of chips came to the grand total of £3.00 with a voucher I had).

This pub was demolished quite a few years ago

O be feckin’ Jeesus, what sort of a hellish pit of human awfulness does this place represent. I was there for an hour or so on St Paddy’s Day 2006 as some of my misguided mates had chosen to meet there. The first thing that assails ones senses, once you’ve got passed the woolly hatted numpty on the door, is the noise, then you realise it is what passes for music in Emporio Yatus. The next task is to fight your way to the bar only to be faced with Inbev fizzy p*ss that claims to be lager and the ubiquitous John Smiths Smooth or keg Boddies that plagues this part of England’s green and pleasant. In a corner a spotty irk with a pair of headphones and an 80’s record collection assaults everyone’s ears with the only respite being when he stops the row to shout a topical “Is anyone here Oirish”. This of course was met by a stunned silence, even those “twats in hats” who regularly embarrass themselves on St Paddys Day don’t really know why they are doing it. OK they could probably sing the first line of Wild Rover but ask them what type of farm animal was favoured by Paddy McGinty and they wouldn’t have a clue. Dosed up on e-numbers from a myriad of rainbow coloured WKD’s these pseudo Paddys would happily embrace Scotland the Brave or Men of Harlech as their own, that’s if the spotty irk with headphones had even heard of these stirring anthems. All together now, I went to a Yates’s I should not frequent But I only went in ’cos I needed the gents If it’s good beer you’re after you’re well out of luck As they stuff they serve here it may well make you chuck And it's no, nay, never No, nay never no more I have been to this Yates’s No never no more (Reviewed in 2006, although I believe it's much the same now)

Our party of four were refused entry on the grounds that my stepson was wearing trainers. On looking through the windows the majority of young people were wearing them. I think the real reason was that me and the mrs did not fit the customer profile by being about 60 yrs old.No loss , Manchester is full of good pubs who judge you on the colour of your money and not of your hair. ( This is the only Yates I have had this problem with but must admit I would not want to enter some after 6pm when they become an annexe of the local secondary school.)