Fine Line, Clapham Junction  

Although the Fine Line chain isn't as disgustingly bland as some brands, it is difficult to shake the feeling that before each carbon-copy bar is plopped onto the distribution truck a big robot irons out any signs of distinctiveness and character. Hence the Clapham Junction outlet is the same as every other Fine Line, stringently adhering to the need for the correct proportion of big sofas, the right ratio of expensive bottles to expensive lagers and most crucially achieving the apex of gut churning smoothness in all its fittings. Undoubtedly the effect is very comfortable and sometimes relaxing on the early morning weekends, but its a rather soulless, expensive and disturbingly depressing way to spend your time.

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