Tricky

He’s running late from a previous interview and he’s soon got another meeting across town. This means Flavorpill will have to catch him in transit as he makes his way through the busy London streets. The phone line isn’t great though. This could, indeed, be a tricky conversation.

Christian Rose-Day chats, albeit with minor interruptions, to a distracted and ‘very English’ Tricky. The issues up for discussion include his feelings about fish and chips, record sales and other people’s opinions of The Fifth Element.

So, you’re obviously a busy man?
Sometimes

[He seems distracted]

Have you got plans for the weekend?
Umm, I don’t know mate.

[Awkward silence, this is going really well]

I see you were recently part of the NME Shockwaves tour here in the UK - how was it playing in front of your home crowds?
Do you know what? Playing in front of any crowd, you tour so long you be happy just for people to turn up….

[This is better. And by Jove, he’s got a thick West Country accent]

…Anywhere that I go, if I’ve got more than 20 people, I’m happy. It’s just the fact that people will buy a ticket to come see you, it makes me feel good. Obviously it’s nice in England because in Manchester I got to see all my family. I had friends from Liverpool come down. Obviously when I’m playing New York that can’t happen.

How was the latest material received in the live context?
We had a good vibe everywhere. It’s no so much what album you’re doing. If you try to give 100% of yourself, someone will feel you, someone will have feedback off feelings. Feelings generate around the room. For instance, my band know that they’re not to get dressed up when they go on stage. I have a knock down if I ever see anyone putting on anything special. It’s like “What you wearing in the day time is what you go onstage with”. If you’re wearing pajamas all day you go on stage in pajamas. We try to keep it real and honest.

And you’ve got your first full US tour for 5 years coming up. Any reason why you’ve chosen now?
It’s the only time I’ve got at the moment. We’ve been on tour for about the last 9 months. I’ve got to record a new album in April so this is really the only time we’ve got. So I’ll go to America, do this tour and then record my album. I’m going to be going to places [in the US] that I’ve never been before and places where people don’t know me. It’s going to be almost like my first gigs. I’m not going to be selling out these places. Probably a lot of them will be half empty. So it’s like going back to old school, spreading the word, doing your gospel thing.

Did you get to choose any of those venues yourself?
No, it’s all done by my promotion guy. It’s basically like a promotional tour - not promotional as in doing the main places like New York and LA where I could probably get a big crowd, but doing places like Charlotte, Tennessee and the sort of places that I’m not really known.

I see you’ve got something special lined up for SXSW...
I get nervous. The only reason I get nervous is because I want people to have a really good show.

[Huh? Has he not heard the question correctly? Let’s try again]

And...

[Too late. he’s off again]

...I want people to have a good show so apart from that I don’t plan anything in particular. I just want 100% for my fans and I’m just going to get a hot chocolate....

[Is he ordering refreshments?]

....and it can be quite sad sometimes if you’re ultra tired and you don’t give 100% of yourself. That can be quite a depressing feeling. So what you hope for is that you’ve got everything to give. It’s such a nice thing for someone to come out and see you, to get a ticket and take the time out of their life to see you play. I see it as such a beautiful complement.

[Let’s give it one more try]

And you’ve got something special lined up with Devo for SXSW?

[Surely he heard it this time?]

Yeh, we’re going to be doing Devo which I’ve been a big fan of for years. I’ve met one of them once or twice but I’ve never actually got to do a show with them. So we’re going to be supporting them.

[Fair enough, let’s ask about his label]

Brown Punk: can you give us a quick summary of how things are going with that.
It’s going good. It’s taking a lot of time. It’s me and Chris Blackwell [Bob Marley, U2, Grace Jones, PJ Harvey] and we’re just trying to set it up real properly so hopefully we should have a film out and a record out this year. But err, sorry mate…soya milk, no cream....do you want anything?....so errm....sorry mate, what was I talking about?

Brown Punk.
Oh yeh, I did the movie and I’ve got about two more weeks of editing and we’ve got a compilation album what will come out at the same time.

So how do you decide who to sign on that label?
Sheer talent. I don’t give a shit about record sales. Like, I seen one of my bands play about 6 months ago and I was in the crowd and no one knew who I was and it was just beautiful to see them up there. So success to me is them finishing and mixing the album. That’s success to me.

I wanted to ask you about your own success in terms of records sold - your latest album: fantastic reviews, great piece of work, but then it didn’t quite get the recognition in terms of sales.
It’s understandable because I’m not in the right demographic for [BBC] Radio 1. Everything I stand for is not Radio 1. So I knew it was never going to go and sell millions of records and I knew to a certain extent that Radio 1 weren’t going to.....thank you, oh excuse me, could you pour some away please…

[Ah, refreshments must be ready]

...that Radio 1 weren’t going to play me. The music industry thinks I’m a bit raw and real. I’m a bit too honest. I don’t play the game. So I can understand it really.

The album is quite broad in its range.
Yeh, it’s like my upbringing. It’s every kind of music. It’s like my history. I didn’t grow up just listening to hip hop and I didn’t grow up just listening to reggae. I used to listen a lot to Marco Bolan and T-Rex, Gary Numan, The Specials. I come from a multi-racial family - my grandmother is white, my Dad’s Jamaican, my mum is half African, half white - and this is how I grew up: integration. And that reflects on what I do when I make music.

So going by the names you thrown out there, it’s quite a British album as well?
Yeh yeh, and I’m very, very, very English. Don’t matter how long I’ve been in America - I lived in America for 15 years - my accent is still the same. I’m very English in my attitude, the foods that I like to eat, and people say English food is crap, I love it.

You like pies?
Oh, fish and chips. Fish and chips is the best thing in the world. There’s nothing ever created better than fish and chips. Sausage and chip, bacon, tomatoes, fish fingers, Heinz ketchup. You know, I’m English.

The album itself details how life was quite tough for you back then, but how is it now?
Obviously I’m lucky. I get to travel. So I don’t get stuck in one place. It was tough but not tough. The toughest thing was being heard, or getting a job. I think it’s tougher for kids now. You’ve got the whole gun culture going on. I was lucky I didn’t go through any of that.

You said last year that if ‘something doesn’t sound dark people say it’s their best stuff’. Do you remember saying that?
Yeh, basically this is a comeback album. The only reason they’re saying this is a comeback album or that it’s one of the best albums I did is because it’s more accessible. They have to understand, Angels With Dirty Faces, you have to get your head round. With this, it’s really in your face and it speaks for itself.

Have you got any other examples of artists that have done similar?
I don’t know really. Things are bit harder for me because Maxinquaye caused such a storm. To have that much interest in your first album, where do you go from there? You have to go backwards to go forwards. The reason I did Nearly God was because Maxinquaye was too successful. It was too successful too quick so I did Nearly God because I knew that the record sales wouldn’t be as big as Maxinquaye, the radio wouldn’t be so quick to play it. I get critiqued a bit more because of that. I get critiqued quite heavily now. People dissect me.

Perhaps that’s an indication of how much respect you get.
To a certain extent it is, and what people expect from me, which is not a bad thing. It ups your game.

With many of your tracks you seem to be reveling in attracting the talents of other people. Is there anyone you would like to work with in the future if you were given the opportunity?
I’d always work with Polly Harvey. She is one of my favourite artists and I’m always, always, always, always up for working with her.

You’re obviously very keen on doing the odd cover version, are you a bit of a wannabe?
Yeh, I wish I’d written a lot of the covers I’ve done. So, in a way, I am a wannabe. I wish I could sound like Kate Bush or The Cure.

Are there any particular covers you’ll be doing in America?
I have a tracklist of everything I’ve ever done and I literally call them out as we go along. The crowd kind of let you know where you’re going as well. So if I feel like ‘All right, this is a bit mellow’ then I’ll call out one of the tougher songs. It’s very spontaneous, to a certain extent.

You’ve stated before that you’re not into new music as much as older music. Is this still the case?
I think a lot of new music leans itself on old music. It’s just like ‘You sound like so-and-so, but where are you?’ If I want to hear 60s music, I’m going to listen to 60s music. I’m not going to listen to an artist from now that does 60s music. I like new music. I like people that are experimenting. Why would I try and sound like a band from the 60s, what would be the point?

So which albums have you been caning lately?
Last night I was listening to the Best of The Jam album. Happy Mondays too. Public Enemy. I still listen to all my old favourites.

Do you ever go to gigs yourself?
Nah, I’ve never been into live shows, to be honest with you. Going to stand in front of people, watching them sing on stage, has never really appealed to me. I come from the DJ point of view, where sound systems play your music and you’re bouncing. Live shows have never really done anything for me.

Before you go, just a few quick questions. What are you most proud of?
My little girl. She’s so smart, she’s so intelligent, she’s a lot better than I am, she’s a better person than I am. She’s got a better mind than me.

Would you rate yourself as good Dad?
Not perfect, nah, not perfect.

When was the last you said ‘no’ to someone?
Just now when I was down at Universal and they told me to put out a spliff.

What is the biggest misconception people have of you?
Usually when people meet me they give me a bit of attitude because they think I’m dark and moody but I’m quite a comedian, I’m clumsy, I’m a joker.

What kind of reading material do you consume?
I only read real crime. I can’t read fiction, I can’t read science fiction. If it didn’t happen, I can’t read it.

So what reading material do you have next to your toilet?
I’ve got this book called Wild Thing by a doorman called Lew Yates. It’s about a guy who does security in London. It’s a good book.

What makes you angry and when was the last time you had a Christian Bale type rant?
Now I’m older I don’t often have them any more. But a few things make me angry like someone coming up to me on the street saying ‘Are you an actor?’ or ‘Were you in the Fifth Element?’ Who would give a fuck if I was in the Fifth Element? Why would anyone care? That makes me angry, that you’d waste your time to come up to me and say that. How fucking stupid is that?

What worries you?
Not a lot really because it aint perfect. Why worry about anything? You live and you die and everything in between. It’s not really worth worrying about anything.

So you’re fairly chilled out these days?
Yeh.

Budapest

This feature was published in Royal Jordanian Airline's in-flight magazine, Royal Wings.

Staying over
Short stay guests craving the convenience of inner city life will find the deluxe, fashionable apartment suites at MaMaison Residence Izabella in close proximity to the classy Andrássy boulevard. If you desire fantastic views of the Danube, Hotel Victoria in quiet Buda will be more to your taste (higher floors recommended).

Eating out
The Jewish quarter is always a good place to start. Fülemüle has reasonably-priced, authentic Hungarian dishes, Café Bouchon offers international flavours in an informal setting (cash only) whilst Buena Vista boasts a café, pub and fine dining restaurant with a summer terrace.

What to do
Looking for an unusual excursion? The 1200m Castle Labyrinth should do the trick. Not for small children or claustrophobics (opt for the lamplight tour). To unwind, a dip at the Gellért Baths & Spa is the perfect relaxation antidote. Classic marble, mosaics, saunas, hot springs and outdoor pools for all.

Shopping
Király Street is the capital’s most promising area for boutique shopping and the best of the bunch is Latomas which specialises in edgy fashion for women (Hungarian designed). Budapest is also home to many delicious ‘cukraszdas’, or pastry shops, and Gresham Kávéház at the Four Seasons Gresham Palace Hotel is simply the most elegant.

What to Read
Experience the lighter side of the Soviet occupation with the bizarre One Minute Stories by István Örkény, a series of succinct, anecdotal novellas. Adversely, Imre Kertész's Fateless, winner of the 2002 Nobel prize for literature, is the tale of a young, Jewish Hungarian in Auschwitz.

Roast

Borough Market, SE1
Apparently, there’s a rumour going round that Borough Market is THE place to go for a bit of food love. Apparently, there’s stall upon stall of organic, fresh, free range, wild, and home-reared yumminess just cluttering up the place. There’s also a rumour going round that the restaurant, Roast, serves roasts. Well, who would’ve guessed?!

Places like Roast are Kryptonite to us critics. This is the kind of restaurant we usually try to avoid because our job is to lambast, shake fists and generally poke fun at lesser establishments that will probably not make it through the other side of the recession. Usually, there’s a catalogue of errors to laugh about, leaving no doubt in the mind of the reader that under no circumstances should they visit. Even if they’re drunk and it’s on the way home.

But with Roast, it’s a different story. It’s faultless. They only offer one dish and that’s roast joy, sprinkled with grated dreams and served on a bed of Ahhhhhhhhhhh. No, make that Ahhhhhhhhh to the power of Ahhhhhhhh.

This roast joy comes in a variety of shapes and sizes. There’s the modern decor which is as bright an over-achieving child and amplified by a beautiful portico that was abandoned by Covent Garden’s Floral Hall many years ago and brought to the market for only a quid.

Then there’s the unclenched weekend clientele who are far removed from the hubris of boorish City-dom during the working week. Roast is suitably for doe-eyed couples, sloshed-up birthday groups, girlie natter-thons and lazy families alike.

There’s also the view-of-St-Paul’s location, voyeuristically high above the throng of market activity, causing dinner conversations to veer wildly off into “Wow, look at the state of THAT nutter down there” every few sentences.

Added to that, there’s the high-ceiling’d, live jazz’d and child-friendly’d atmosphere keeping no track of time and generally maintaining everyone in a floating daze, welcomingly.

There’s the impeccable service which appears to be sickeningly 5-star, whichever angle you’re viewing it from.

There’s the booze which boasts a mighty tome of heaven’s treacle to devour, including the inescapable Chapel Down Bacchus Reserve (made in Kent, no less) which would probably cleanse and rejuvenate your urban weary skin if you decided to pour it over your face rather than do the sensible thing and drink it.

And then, of course, there’s the grub. Oh, the tender grub. The tender British grub. The tender British grub that is not afraid to roast any living being (if you arrive on a Monday, you can sample from the special ‘rare and native breed’ menu - Dodo? Diplidocus?). All ingredients are GB sourced, and most come directly from the market right downstairs. Starters are under strict portion control - the potted kippers are a good place to start - thus leaving room for the generous main event - the slow roasted goose leg with firm kale and adequately sized roast potatoes are complimented perfectly by the boozed-up poached pears (“Oh you do look lovely”, “Oh, that’s very kind of you to say so.”). Dessert is daring and is only avoidable if you’re able to avert your eyes as tempting glasses of rhubarb trifle or sultry Bakewell tarts are delivered to neighbouring tables.

It’s also got a cocktail bar, it’s own lift, Dyson Airblades to play with, windows as far as the eye can see, a great selection of British beers, a menu that is a bit dithering because it changes every week, and an owner who, in 2008, won Businessman of the Year and Restaurant Personality of the Year, plus claimed a spot in the Independent on Sunday’s Top 10 Restaurateurs in Britain list.

OK, OK, OK. Roast is amazing. There, I said it. Are you happy now?!

Molton House

43 South Molton Street, Mayfair W1
“The theatre is a gross art, built in sweeps and over-emphasis.”

At times like this it’s appropriate to break the glass and release an emergency quote. When the British author and playwright, Enid Bagnold, uttered the above phrase in fourteen hundred and whatever she probably didn’t have a West End socialite hangout in mind. Yet, with words like ‘gross art’, ‘sweeps’ and ‘over-emphasis’ she could’ve been describing the new members clubs, Molton House. It’s absolute design mayhem.

From the outside Molton House does a fairly good job of pretending it’s not an exhibitionist - small signage, tiny red rope, zero windows - but once (and if) you get inside, then the theatre really begins. It’s of no surprise that the biggest poser of them all, the peacock, has been adopted as the Molton House emblem.

The bite of ostentation smothers four homely floors of this Georgian building. The designers were clearly dealing with some acutely indecisive clients and, in the end, just threw together everything that B&Q could muster. Copper cladding, snakeskin, silk, peacock feathers (there it is again), leather corsets, ostrich feathers, flickering colours, darkened mirrors, scarlet hues, low lighting, gargantuan chandeliers: there was probably no other colour, material or fabric sold anywhere else in the world that day because it seems Molton House bought it all. The attention to detail even goes as far as putting sparkles INSIDE the toilet extraction fans.

The club - with house/electro/rock/but-no-RnB blaring out of the Funktion 1 sound system - leads to the cocktail bar - with its own DJ hidden in a cupboard under the stairs playing so-laid-back-it-could-be-a-spa music - which leads to the restaurant - serving what else but ‘modern European cuisine’ - which leads to the private dining/conference rooms - replete with their very own TV, wifi, stereo system, weather patterns, astrological calendar....

The drinks here are just shy of heavenly and you should feel free to say ‘Wow’ as often as you like. The specialists on the tricky side of the bar have put together a menu that is supper club flamboyant and in keeping with the venue’s decor. Classics, punches, cups, sours, flips, ‘temperance’ options, and a clever range of bitters - coriander, jasmine tea, vanilla, liquorice - created by a local hotel chef. Plus, each drink has its own receptacle, some which require flavour infusion before the drink has even been made.

Tip 1: wait for the ‘ample’ table service.
Tip 2: Do NOT ask for a Mojito. You wouldn’t ask Gordon Ramsey to cook you cheese on toast now would ya?!
Some of the highlights include the Cherry Blossom Bellini - or ‘Go-Getter’ as we’ll call it for its powers of easy drinking; the Liquorice Sazerac - the ‘Sock Blower’ for the strong buzzy feeling that arrives direct by absinthe; the signature A&A’s Negroni - a gin-based ‘Ladies Night’; the Molton Mule - ‘Summer time’ served in a twisted glass, heavy on the pineapple, strong on ginger, garnished with an odd lime dispatch; and the Don Flip - the ‘Nightcap’, a tequila and port-based end to the evening. Need to freshen up? Try a £5 latte before you go (cue Pulp Fiction style conversations about “finding out what a five pound latte tastes like”).

The people? Molton House is in the upper echelons, apparently. The membership committee contains within its serried ranks one Sex Pistol, one Queen, TWO Duran Durans, one Channel 4er, one messy bed artist, one former Mrs Law, one Kidd, one Kemp, one Cold Feet, one Blur, one Libertine, and one Imbruglia, to name but a few. Basically, you’ll need to iron a shirt. And brush your shoes.

Nick ‘Cuckoo Club’ Valentine teamed up with a former Movida GM, a former Sketch mixologist and a former Devonshire Gardens chef and created this multi-layered cake of decadence. The result is tastefully tacky and wins the 2009 Elton John Prize for Garishness hands down. But is the décor trying to over compensate for something that’s lacking? The jury is still out on that one.

The Fenitman Arms

64, Fentiman Rd SW8 1LA
Geronimo Inns: the gastro overlords of London. You don’t want to mess with them. Their gang of pubs are lurking everywhere, especially in the more decent and self-respecting communities of the capital. Easy pickings, see. They have venues stationed all over London on deserted street corners, ready to supply any unsuspecting passer-by with a quick hit of verve, sparkle or finesse. And the Fentiman Arms is one of its top henchmen.

Now clearly, there’s nothing illegal about the Fentiman Arms (that was just a metaphor), not unless it’s now against the law to make every man, woman and child who is pulled in by its force field a complete and utter satisfied customer. This is benevolent not malevolent brawn and it’s only a six hit over the boundary from The Oval’s middle stump; as long as Kevin Pietersen is batting.

The Fentiman hides its stoicism well. There you are, minding your own business, cluelessly wandering along Fentiman Street, not a care in the world, generally marveling at the quaintness of it all, when suddenly.....BAM, you’re sucked in by an overpowering lure of niceness. This ‘Arm’ of the ever-growing Geronimo empire is particularly muscular and it hides a stocky robustness within its tidy physique. Remember, the small ones are often the ones to watch out for. They pack an almighty delicious punch.

There’s classic Geronimo behaviour to be seen here. Firstly, the general managers; they must breed them at Geronimo HQ because although they all look very different, they share the common traits of extreme conviviality and a willingness to exploit the potentiality of their venue for the benefit of everyone else in the world (laurels are certainly not for resting on). Secondly, open shelves; they love em: the exclusive/inclusive expanse/cosiness they lend is peculiarly familiar throughout. Thirdly, the wine; a Master of Wine (no less) has selected a decent array straight from God’s own cellar, which includes the continually rewarding Infamous Goose Wild Rock Sauvignon from New Zealand.

You start this compartmentalised box of fun in what appears to be someone’s living room, complete with mid-battle board games and roaring open fire. It’s as though you’ve wandered in by mistake like Little Red Riding Hood and thus proceed to sit yourself down and help yourself to somebody else’s food, you teef! Only, it IS your food. The small, nee tiny, dining area at the rear separates you from the bar so as to not make it feel as though you’re eating under someone’s pint of Guinness.

Other fantastic appendages to the Fentiman’s arsenal: the garden, where picnic benches are painted with sunshine and where a full scale summer BBQ is guaranteed to break out at least three times a week; a versatile retro function room upstairs with private bar, loo and big TV where comedy, quiz or carve-your-own roast nights are available if you ask nicely; plus, benches out front for smokers and a menu that is dramatically tweaked weekly, meaning you dining habits will be somewhat on a par with your weekly dose of Lost.

Tip No.1: Yes, the standard menu is great and you wont be disappointed BUT there is a daily specials menu and they don’t call it ‘special’ for nothing. For example, the pork cheek, lentil and chorizo stew with buttered mash is both large and luscious.

Tip No.2: Opt for any starter that involves an ex-fish. Mackerel pate, smoked salmon.....No particular reason, it’s basically a flipping good way to start your meal.

Although it would appear that this establishment is mainly used by locals, it’s definitely a destination for all. If you reside anywhere south of, say, Derby, north of Bruge, west of Narnia and east of the Moon, you’ve really got no excuse for not visiting (this includes exams, weddings and personal injuries such as death).

Zizzi Notting Hill

2-6 Notting Hill Gate W11 3JE
For those of you that aren’t aware, Zizzi is not a bankrupt remnant of the former Virgin megastore empire and nor is it the latest Manchester City big league signing. What it is, however, is a fairly decent imitation of an over achieving Ask Pizza - better grades, a readiness to suck up to you and a past that probably involved some form of bullying, most likely from that girl Bella Pasta and ‘er mate Pizza Express. In fact, if Zizzi does bare a strikingly uncanny resemblance to Ask Pizza that’s because it is one; sort of. Zizzi and Ask are like the Brown and Blair of yesteryear; a brotherhood, sort of.

This branch of Zizzi is but a stone’s throw from the Notting Hill Gate tube station; as long as you have an arm like BA Baracus and the wind is particularly favourable. It’s a sad row of naffness that leads to the restaurant: shops in varieties of kebab, betting and corner, each with its own sentinel tramp stationed outside. Nevertheless, once inside the seemingly relative safety of Zizzi’s impenetrable glass force field, the outside world is mostly a forgotten hindrance or simply a conduit for bands of streaming light to enter the establishment. Zizzi is bright; squeaky bright: the cutlery has a slasher’s glint; the mirrored walls and pillars snigger at their expansive appearance; and the entire front section is merely a portal through which the outsiders can peer in and stand agog at the open kitchen.

Any Zizzi worth its weight in tomatoes will proudly tell you how very very Italian it is, but this one just about staples it to your forehead. It looks and smells and sounds like an Italian: the look is a loud menagerie of open-mouthed stomachs ceasing to talk only when the next tasty shovelful of seafood risotto is readied; the smell is a screaming waft of buffalo mozzarella being deliciously cremated in the wood burning pizza oven; and the sound emanates from the staff who, regardless of their provenance, are all well versed in the art of Anglo-Italo accents, throwing down a gauntlet no Kate (Winslet or Blanchett) would dare to challenge.

The menu beats Nandos and Wahaca up the nationally-themed chain restaurant evolutionary ladder. The choice of available dining options is almost worryingly plentiful and items change as often as they should do, which is on a par with most high street sales. Plus, even though the menu is so hefty, the cooks still manage to rustle up a specials menu from somewhere (strangely, there might be something in the naming of this ‘specials’ menu and you might be better off choosing from it).

The carbon footprint in this place must be off the chart as much of the food is sourced from just down the road in local Italy. The cheeses, the wines, more or less everything they can get away with is Italian and the jury is still out on whether the Gloucestershire steak used to drive a Fiat and chain-smoke three packs a day.

Starter: whitebait, adequate. Not as crunchy as the same dish eaten in a Reel Greek restaurant only three days prior.

Main: Gorgonzola gnocchi, wintery; deserving of a scarf, a carrot and an errant piece of coal.

Dessert: the best. A strong almond obsession as Amaretto features almost everywhere (a good thing). However, as inviting as they are, it might be ill advised to opt for a dessert. Not because the consequent dish will be of a substandard quality. On the contrary, the magnitude of the task for consuming such a beast will leave you feeling a tad uncomfortable around the midriff as you roll out the door, giddy with post-feast haze, and wander straight into oncoming traff….SPLAT!

There’s no head chef creating masterpieces here. It’s mostly pre-created. Although the pasta is scolding hot and flavoursome, there are concerns that it may not be fresh. And this, an authentic dip into the seas of Italian culture?! Due to the sheer size and custom of the restaurant, it’s likely they try to sneak a few corners and have the food pre-made. Yet, regardless, it’s a chain that everyone feels comfortable with and one where you’ll indulge in an above average but no wow factor fare. Overall, a pleasing circus of service, a heavy set of desserts, and wine glasses that sharks could circle in. Grazie!

The Phoenix

23 Smith Street, Chelsea SW3 4EE
Imagine you’re wearing a really, really tight baseball cap. So tight your brain is knocking on the sides of your skull and demanding evacuation. Now imagine you’re also on Oxford Street. At 2 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Saturday. Just before Christmas.

Suddenly, you’re not on Oxford Street any more but by yourself on top of a lonely hill in the Cotswolds, in the sun, sitting on a couch big enough for three yous, with a pint of irresponsibly strong beer in your hand. You remove the baseball cap and simultaneously take a sip of your delightful beverage. AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

Well, that’s The Phoenix. The zenith of AHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh. The heavyweight champion of AHHHHHhhhhh. The Grand Old Duke of AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhh.

When you visit The Phoenix - which you will - you’ll need to take the following items with you:
A) 1x parking permit for the Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea
B) 1x squeegey
C) 1x wallpaper scraper, preferably the largest one you can possibly find

This is because, on all counts, you’ll be staying for some time and will no doubt eventually need assistance to help scrape your sorry ass off the couch and out onto the street. It’s closing time and you’ve got work tomorrow, remember?

The Phoenix is the 5-year old offspring of hot-stuffs, Geronimo Inns, who have thankfully been throwing their weight around London for a while. And much like their other community castles - The Fentiman Arms in Oval and The Morgan Arms in Mile End - the positioning of The Phoenix at a quiet residential crossroad is a very deliberate and homely move by Geronimo. Although being well hidden, The Phoenix is not really off the beaten track so much as slightly loitering on the verges of a horrendously busy thoroughfare. For this immaculate Georgian street, my friends, feeds straight into the hustle, bustle and well-toned muscle of London’s street market to the rich and famous, King’s Road.

Step under the cosy wings of The Phoenix and you’re automatically reduced to a quivering pile of leisure. The wallpaper is warming, the fireplace is welcoming, the absence of music is hospitably deafening. There is only one TV and even that is limited to terrestrial; with the sound off. Inside, oak tables mingle with leather-seated booths that chat with walls adorned with big art that coerce with shelve dividers filled with sculpture and pottery. Even the light fittings are trying to get in on the action, the innovative so-and-sos.

Upon this seating and ornaments are the eyes and arses of the clientele, who, it has to be said, are of the rosy-cheek and posh-accent variety. This is ra-ra-ra country, so if you’re easily offended by a Porsche or a Ferrari - be they a car or a lady - you’re probably lost and should not have wandered into this pub in the first place. Now, get back down your own end before we set the dogs on you!

Sitting is the order here. No standing room available. As it is so neatly compacted into this tidy little space, it does have the potential to get a bit hairy if more than one large family congregates. Yet somehow, that makes it more endearing.

The menu is a foodie’s hot weekend in Paris and very much of the time, throwing in words like guinea fowl, salt marsh lamb, truffled artichoke, brown Portland crab, turnip puree and juniper jus. Plus, the menu changes frequently, so foodie wont get bored. If you have the option, the braised red cabbage with any of the dishes - starter, main or dessert - is horrendously gratifying. As is the ever-popular sticky toffee pudding. And how’s this for a starter?! Fresh salmon, capers and grated egg!!

The beer and wine choices are fair yet the wine list is chosen by a Master of Wine, no less (clue in the title there), and includes that Infamous Goose Wild Rock Sauvignon.

Overall, a cosy night out. Bring family, bring friends, bring lovers, bring pets and Martians. The Phoenix could well be a quaint place during summer as you spill out onto the pavement side alley with a Pimms in one hand and your shopping kill in the other. Even Elton ‘hissy fit’ John couldn’t fail to feel relaxed at The Phoenix.

Pub games

On his day, Denmark’s Lars Trabolt is unstoppable. As is Keith Elwin. As are Frédéric Collignon, Daryl Peach, Rubilen ‘Bingkay’ Amit, Trevor Gallienne, Don Jones, Beth Westberry, Anastasia Dobromysova, and the Klahr brothers, Chris and Dan. And let’s not forget the might of The Gloster Gladiators and The Laughing Fish. These names might mean nothing to you in the immediacy but they are in fact at the pinnacle of their chosen event. They are ALL current world champions and their expertise lies at the very heart of Britain’s national pastime: namely, pubs. As their names appear, they reign in the worlds of backgammon, table football, pool, 9-ball billiards, bar billiards, dominos, arm wrestling, darts, quoits, skittles and Toad in the Hole.

You may have previously encountered a few of the above. Equally, you may be thinking “What the hell is Toad in the Hole if it’s not a delicious sausage-based meal?” Toad in the Hole is played by throwing brass discs at a hole in the top of a wooden box sat against a wall. Its popularity is concentrated mainly in East Sussex where the only known league still survives.

Similarly rare and provincial are the cricket-like Bat and Trap of Kent and the coconut shy Aunt Sally, primarily found in Oxfordshire. The latter was probably introduced to the Oxon area when Charles I relocated his entire retinue there during the Civil War in 1642. Although the contemporary version simply requires players to knock a ball from a plinth, the original was likely to have been much bloodier: a chicken, a rope, some sticks and a cruel demise.

Question: ever joined a girter and danced around a flonker? Were you flonked with the dwyle for a wanton, marter or ripple? If not, did they get swadged? If so you were probably somewhere in Sussex or Suffolk partaking in a bit of Dwyle Flonking. There are no winners or losers in Dwyle Flonking, only drunkards. Basically, two teams attempt to flick a beer-soaked rag onto one another’s bodies. Breaks in play occur for the purposes of pint necking.

Yet another regional recreation is the ring-over-a-pin throwing game of Quoits. Played in the North East and in some parts of Scotland and Wales it dates back as far as 1388 and is much like horseshoe pitching. Similarly, Ringing the Bull, almost exclusive to Nottingham, is based around the action of hooking a metal ring onto a target (bull’s horn) positioned on a wall. Both these games show parallels with games that were played by the Romans.

Other games you might like to try:
- the table skittle game, Devil Among the Tailors;
- the human skittle game, Conga Cuddling;
- or the two-player game, Rhubarb Thrashing, in which blindfolded contestants stand in empty dustbins and smack one another about the head with handfuls of rhubarb.

Some games stand the test of time, some clearly do not. The 17th-century card game, Cribbage, is still going strong throughout the British Isles. Backgammon, which was originally brought to England by the Crusaders in the 11th century, is likewise. It wasn’t until the 20th century that table games made a prolific appearance - firstly, bar billiards from Belgium and then pool following the popularity of Paul Newman’s 1961 movie, The Hustler.
In the 1970s video games and slot machines appeared. In the 90s it was the quiz, both in machine and team formats. In the noughties the smoking ban came along, leading to profits generated by food rather than booze and a premium on table space.

Pubs are beginning to disappear - 27 per week according to The British Beer and Pub Association - and our main interests now lie with the gods known as Sky and Setanta. Also, one glaringly obvious aspect most ye olde social games hold in common is the opportunity for mishap, too. There are countless health and safety possibilities linked with people throwing objects in confined spaces whilst under the influence. A combination of all of these factors has ensured dwindling participation in said games.

Darts could well be the exception. Six million people in the UK still regularly play darts, making it one of our most contested sports. And yet weirdly, it seems to be the one we’re most vehemently bent on keeping: the Save Our Darts campaign, overseen by online bookmakers Blue Square, “aims to have another 10,000 dart boards in pubs by 2017”. According to their studies, pub-goers today prefer adventurous food, extensive beer and wine lists, comfy sofas and good music over darts. And the campaign is boasting royal blessings. Earlier this year, even Prince Charles stepped up to the oche with darts in hand, claiming "I'm doing my best to keep the darts tradition going."

Jolly good.