I wish sometimes that Time Out would accept one word reviews for bars.

Medicine Bar, Upper St, London N1: Shit.

That would be one of them.

The evening kicked off there with an extremely swift half, then on to 25 Canonbury Lane (posh), The Marquess Tavern (alright), The Northgate (delightful) and the Rosemary Branch (delovely). As usual with these things, my notes get ever more incoherent during the evening. Fortunately my ever trusty phone was on hand to document various things in visual and audio format. I know that at 10.26pm me, Ant and Keith passed a house on Essex Road with a big sign on it saying Seaview Cottage. On Essex Road. “They were rather hopeful”, said Keith. I know that by 12.24am Keith and I had valiantly continued the pub crawl into Hoxton by drinking Leffe in a quite repulsive bar full of nasty individuals. I know that around 1.31am Keith and I were talking to this man:

who said “The satellite up there isn't exactly as new as you might think it is.”

I got to this point at about 2.30. This junction was once a regular hang out for me; in late 2001 I would frequently go drinking in Brixton, and as the all-night 333 bus didn't exist then I inevitably ended up getting this far home, before wandering around on a traffic island shouting “bollocks”. In fact, if any small children in the area are allowed to regularly stay up late, they would have looked out of the window last night and said “Mummy, the Bollocks Man is back.” Eventually a taxi must have hoved into view, as I am currently at home and I have no money left. I remember waking up with a start, fully clothed at 4.30am as a Steely Dan video reached its end and the television kicked in at insane volume with a woman extolling the virtues of “essential oils”, whatever the f*ck they might be.

I have to review another 5 pubs tonight. I hope their lime and sodas are tasty.