London Pub, Bloomsbury  

Located on the ground floor of perennial tourist favourite the Royal National Hotel, London Pub is quite possibly the most soulless experience you can have with a pint in your hand. London Pub (note, no definite article), has all the atmosphere of a vacuum flask and the most disinterested bar staff we've encountered in a long time. The usual fizzy kegs were on tap, along with some Greene King beers. Food is served, but it appears to be of the fish'n'chips'n'bangers'n'mash authentic London cuisine type. Music is of the Pub Rock Classics Lite variety (The Darkness? God help us) and it's incessant. The clientele on our latest visit (yes, we went back to check that it couldn't be that bad - but it was) consisted of terminally bored hotel guests staring over each others shoulders, a huge gang of overseas students who arrived en masse and then paid for their own drinks one at a time (get behind this lot at your peril), and American tourists clearly shocked that you had to stand at a bar to order your own drinks. It was fun watching them realise they weren't going to be served by some perky waitron slaving for tips. But that's not enough to keep you here for more than two minutes. And ladies be warned - if you're going to the loo, be prepared for a walk that resembles nothing so much as the extended tracking shot from Goodfellas.

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