Father Ted's, Stoke Newington  

The previous time we were in here, at 11.10am one morning, we bumped into an old man at the bar reading the Irish Independent, who was soon joined by two pencil-browed psychos shovelling money into a slot machine next to our table.Which may explain our reluctance to check out the pub's new makeover, lovingly completed a few months ago. The pub has been known as the Jolly Butchers for years. Indeed, it still has signs outside and on the walls that give its name as the Jolly Butchers. But don't be fooled. Into the windows, someone has decided to put big, plastic, frosted-glass effect stickers that read 'Father Ted's' or, round the side, 'Kariokee'sic. These periodically shorten as the punters seem to enjoy peeling off big sections.Inside the drab furniture, huge television, slot machines and clientele are exactly the same. Drinking there is like being in a rundown betting shop with a last-chance saloon ambience.But there are advantages. As we were about to leave, the local madwoman, normally seen shrieking and frothing at the mouth in Safeway's, dropped in for a pint. "We're not serving," said the barman. "Disgraceful," the woman chuntered and spat, repeating the word as though it would suddenly magic up a drink. The barman clearly wasn't bothered by this. "Just go away," he said.She did, as no doubt she does most days. We followed her example shortly afterwards.

reviewed:
12/3/2004

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