The Sultan, Lewisham High Road, 4:30pm (RIP - now Nandos)

Features: Timbered room, toilet outside at back with grills letting the rain through, stunk of piss, reached up a passage reeking of vomit.

Action: Door to Saloon bar open, door to bar was ajar but unable to open it. Saloon bar packed, loud karaoke in tiny room hosted by young black geezer who seemed to know everyone’s first names. Everyone knew everyone’s first name. Served by large barmaid whilst she carried a wireless mic singing Crazy – pausing only to shout over, ‘What was it with the Guinness?’ and ‘£4.10 please love’. Whole karaoke session ended with the pub singing Irish songs. Two very fat pitbulls wobbling about, and a small child aggressively pushing past us at the bar. Very aware that we weren’t part of the scene. Coup de grace, one very pissed old bloke, fag burning down to his knuckles crooning his way, slushy-eyed through My Way.

Graffiti

The Salisbury, Harringay RIP (now gentrified)

Description: Victorian grandeur laid to waste.

Action: Saloon bar has two pool tables and tellies with the racing on. Older gents watch the racing with rollups pasted to lips. Lads are playing pool. Pool cues are suddenly raised. Gruff red-faced Boer landlord rushes out to take matters into hand - snatches the cues from their hands and barks in their faces until they decide to carry on playing as though nothing has happened. Lounge Bar: A quieter scene - a single man in a camouflage jacket sits staring into his pint. Red box with the enigmatic 'Ken's Downfall' written on it sits on the rancid carpet by the bar. We ask what it is, no one knows, why is it there? it always has been. Toilets have simple "GENTLEMAN" scrawled on the door in felt tip pen. Disco at the weekends in the small room out back, metal detector on the door. Virtually pitch black interior, all four walls lined with plastic chairs - it's like the grimmest school disco ever. Drug dealers stare at your girlfriend's arse from the stalls.