The Super Mare, Weston Super Mare

Even by Hungry Horse standards, this one’s awful. A filthy car park and soulless garden lead to the inconvenient front door, where you’re ambushed and asked to sit at a table even though you just want a drink. Hoards of unruly brats help to drown out the dire muzak as they run noisily around the single large bar, terrorising the elderly. Badly trained young staff, otherwise unemployable, took three attempts to pour a full pint while failing to hold even a basic conversation. There was a strange smell of disinfectant in the bar, which served only to quell even the faintest of insane urges to sample the microwaved sludge that passes for food in these places. A strange little man who reeked of stale smoke was crawling around the floor on all fours, wittering on about leaking radiators. There is a pool table at one end of the bar and TV screens showing day-time dross. Decor is the standard HH fire-sale tat. Two ales on draft were GK IPA and Abbott – predictably poor in quality, overgassed, tasteless and too cold. A super mare it certainly is, one to which we are unlikely to return.