Well, my extensive research. Which included chatting to three whole people at the bar, and peering over at the booking sheets to check the phone codes I can reveal that the mysterious pub goers come from all over the shop. One Liverpudlian and one Prestonian give the place a catchment area of over tenty miles, which explained the crush at the bar.

These findings, however, pale into insignificance next to the discovery that Mutton was on the menu, and man was it good. Slow cooked hunks of juicy meat garlanded with a golden, gamey, unctuous fat. I gather the noble sheep is due a bit of a restaurant revival, and on this showing about time too (the chips were good n’all).