The Undercover Imbiber Reviews the Traveller’s Rest at Halliton...

Stock photo of pub

Having previously visited the dreary little riverside conurbation of Halliton, I was surprised to learn that this rather mundane village was graced by not just one, but two public houses.

Having been less than impressed with one of the local hostelries, I thought I would find out if the plebeian hamlet of Halliton could redeem itself by having an alternative venue that could offer a standard of public hospitality that would satisfy a noted epicurean such as myself.

Stock photo of pub bar...

The Traveller’s Rest itself is situated on the end of a row of rather common, working-class terraced houses that are situated right on what passes for Halliton’s main road. Normally I would not wish to be associated with such déclassé surroundings, of course. I also noted with some displeasure that the pub was a “tied house” belonging to the Nepo Scheame chain. As is well-known, this former Kentish brewery now specialises in property development and is engaged in a programme of shutting down and selling off even their most profitable pubs in order to satisfy the needs of their venture capitalist shareholders – as is right and proper, of course.

I am no fan of Nepo Scheme’s beer either, but this did not stop me walking up to the bar and ordering a pint of their standard poison, Badenoch’s Gaslighter. As usual, I explained to the relentlessly cheerful and pretty barmaid that I was the MORON’s pub reviewer and Kent’s leading bon vivant, and that a few free pints would go a long way to ensuring a favourable write-up. Despite this, the ugly harridan merely laughed and pointed to one of the many jokey signs behind that bar, specifically the one that said “Please Do Not Ask For Credit As A Punch In The Face Often Offends”. This rejection prompted much laughter from the educationally sub-normal denizens that obviously passed for clientele in the establishment and so, pint in hand, I left the bar to sit at a table.

Now that it was established that I had to pay for it, the beer turned out to be just as stale, bitter and unpalatable as I remembered it, but then at only £4.50 a pint it was at least as cheap as it was nasty. Nevertheless, after six pints, both pub and beer began to grow on me. Indeed, the pub furniture and carpets were spotlessly clean, even if it all looked like something from the 1980’s set of the Rover’s Return.

Stock photo of pints of beer

Returning to the bar for another pint I began to feel decidedly peckish, so I asked to see the pub’s menu. Once again, the barmaid refused my not unreasonable request with the reply of “Sorry, we don’t serve food here, love”, the flimsiest of excuses if ever I heard one. This rejection prompted yet more amusement from the Neanderthals at the bar, with one of them cheerily suggesting that “if I wanted to read, I should go to a library”, to much ribald laughter from his ape-like companions.

Looking around at the shorts and t-shirt wearing brigade of burly “locals”, I thought I would therefore engage them with some jolly banter of my own.

“So would any of you miserable, unemployable cretins actually know where the local library is?” I ventured with a cheerful grin, before draining my pint.

“It’s just down the road, next door to the office of my quantity surveying practice,” replied one of them. “I’ve only just returned their copy of Plato’s Republic, so if you run, you might be able to borrow it yourself so that you can learn a bit about the art of public discourse…”

I decided that these braying idiots were not worthy of my witty repartee and so, with another pint and a packet of crisps in hand, I returned to my table. Sitting opposite me, a surly gentleman was ignoring his numbskull compatriots, instead gazing intently at the Times crossword. After finishing my pint, I returned to the bar for another, looking over the crossword aficionado’s shoulder as I did so.

“Eight Across, ‘Criminal Going Down Is Rather Smug’, thirteen letters. I think you’ll find that’s ‘Condescending’”, I triumphantly announced to him as I returned to my table, pint in hand.

“Just like you, arsehole,” said the ungrateful oaf, slamming his paper down on the table and walking away.

Stock photo of pub toilets...

It was clear that this miserable hostelry was far from hospitable and so after another pint or three, I decided to “review the facilities”. These were clean and fresh, at least until I unfortunately suffered a “Biological Disorder” as I was relieving myself. This was undoubtedly due to the foul nature of the beer I had consumed, which merely confirmed my low opinion of Nepo Scheame pubs and their horrid ales in general. Undeterred, I removed my soiled trousers and underwear and returned to the bar.

“Excuse me, you couldn’t gave these a bit of rinse for me, could you?” I inquired of the barmaid, waving my admittedly somewhat odious accoutrements in order to attract her attention.

Yet once again, my perfectly reasonable request met with a firm and this time, angry refusal. Not only that, but I was then bundled out into the car park by several of the local gorillas and told to “sling my hook”, along with various other epithets that I could not possibly repeat here.

Once more regretting ever going into a Nepo Scheame pub, I went into the local shop at the end of the main road to get something to eat. Unfortunately, I was seated behind the wheel of my Audi at the time.

And as if just to emphasise the backward, hostile nature of Halliton as a whole, all the ungrateful shopkeeper could say was “not you again…”

So in summary, my considered opinion of the Traveller’s Rest at Halliton is as follows…

Decor: ***      Clean, but rather old-fashioned.

Food: *           Food was not served so a packet of expensive crisps (£1.50!!!) had to do.

Drink: *           Utterly awful, causing me to suffer a violent allergic reaction after a mere ten pints.

Price: *           The surly ungrateful barmaid expected me to pay for my drinks despite my offer of a favourable write-up. This is completely unacceptable to a top-class reviewer such as me.

Staff: *             Lazy and unhelpful. Refused to clean my slightly soiled trousers even though that was a result of their awful beer.

Toilets: *         Disgusting. Looked like a ghastly drunk had soiled himself on the floor.

Comments:

Please note that we do not moderate comments. However, we may edit or delete them, or manipulate the voting on them in order to reflect our editorial policy.

Grey Mondeo Man wrote: 

Yet more completely pointless drivel from U.I. Doesn’t like Nepo Scheame beer, so he goes to a Nepo Scheame pub, drinks a gallon of Nepo Scheame beer, gets rat-arsed, humiliates himself and then blames the pub as usual. How on earth does this make for a review of (this comment has been edited for brevity. Ed.)

👎-3000

Uncover Imbiber replied: 

As you can see from both the reaction to your intemperate comment and the favourable and completely independent responses from my admirers below, your opinion is very much in the minority. If do not like my output, please feel free to pass it by!

👍+3000

Art. E. Fishall wrote: 

I think these reviews are excellent and very funny.

👍+400

Clint Elligence wrote: 

I think these reviews are excellent and very funny.

👍+400

A Staffer wrote: 

I think these reviews are excellent and very funny.

👍+400

Mrs U.I. wrote: 

U barsted u left me at home but u shit yor pants serves u right har har yor my bes mate u are I luv you bruv hic

👍+187