The publog hardkore went on a little trawl of estate pubs off the New Kent Road last Friday, partially to prove our hardness but mainly to prove that you didn’t need to be hard to go to pubs off the New Kent Road. On this final point we were proved thoroughly correct. The pubs may have looked a bit stark from the outside, some of them were a wee bit stark on the inside truth be told – but they were all very friendly.

One thing is clear though, none of them were loved by brewery or owners enough to have had more than perfunctory refurbishments. It is of course impossible to tell the age of a pubs interior, especially as the heritage interior industry cranks out “old pubs” by the minute (Hello Nicholson’s pubs). But most of these pubs were in building no older than the forties and the interiors may well have remained much the same since.

Take the Beehive, just off the bit where the New Kent Road turns into a swooping flyover. We got there about half ten and grooved to the seemingly unloved DJ*. We got chatting to the bloke next to us who seemed to continue a good natured war against the barstaff who never served him his bacardi and coke when he wanted it (how hard can a pub be when a regular can drink B&C?) A later entry will certainly discuss the unheard of individual urinal flushes and drain cages in the pub, but the publog eyes drift first behind the bar. Pride of place, by the tapes and old tape player is a mirror. But not any mirror. A mirror of George and Andy, one tipping a hat the other winking in the etched red and black. It was a Wham! mirror.

We are not in irony country here. There is no reason to have a mirror of Wham! behind your bar unless someone who works there likes Wham!. Or at least liked them twenty years ago and it has not moved since. The Wham! mirror was one of the many wonders we saw last Friday (the one man private party in the Hand In Hand, the archeology of stereo-systems both spring to mind).

And Fancyapint say there is only ONE pub in the proximity of Elephant and Castle Tube. And that pub is The George – in Borough. To shame FAP. We offer ourselves up as estate pub correspondents forthwith.

*I grooved. I am not sure if Tim would appreciate having the grooving appellation attached to him.