More musing on the Wetherspoon’s experience. My misfortune dumped me in the Metropolitan Bar at Baker Street last night and there was little I could do about it. is a flagship Wetherspoon’s with award winning toilets, and aircraft hanger ambience. One thing that struck me about the joint is its attempted marriage of tradition and modernism. From the sleek metal bar to the frighteningly mirrored (and constantly manned) toilets it appeared that anything which needed high maintenence was designed with a modernist touch. Compare this to the grotty blue carpet, the general decor and the tables and chairs which aimed at tradition – though missed by a country mile. Its this grab bag attitude which I think is the cause of their downfall. By trying to be all things to all people they end up just not pleasing any audience.

We had another no smoking section run in at the end of the night – and it struck me that such rullings just leave the staff in an uneviable position of trying to enforce the impossible. Not only that but the horrific uniforms they had to wear were those of a bank teller.

However the very worst aspect of the pub was yet again the toilets. I believe these toilets have won awards for cleanliness and ambience, which surprises me. Not cleanliness – since they are constantly manned. But considering this is a very touristy pub, surely it is given completely the wrong idea of multicultural Britain where the only black face working in the pub lurks in Gents, doing a Sammy Davis Jnr soft shoe shuffle while you have a piss and then operates the tap and squirts soap into your hands. Sure he is touting for tips, and doing well out of it, but it just felt mortified every time he pulled off another paper towel for me to dry my hands with and said “here you go sir”. I do not have a knighthood, and if I did I would leave it at the door of the pub too.