I thought I’d gone back in time and walked into my nan’s house – the dark brown wood, the racing on the telly, lung-busting coughing and, above all, the smell.

Very little light emanated from the grubby windows of the Paper Makers Arms so from outside it was hard to tell if this Maidstone boozer was still in business, let alone open.

The first door I tried was shut rock solid, the second finally creaked on its hinges when I applied my shoulder and I immediately faced a sign reading ‘No stupid people beyond this point’. It wasn’t clear if this applied to surprise visitors like me or perhaps those who’d already ventured in and were trying to get out?

The interior was incredibly dark and a bit dingy, thank goodness for twinkling Christmas lights or I may have needed to feel my way to the bar.

The barmaid had thoughtfully worn a bright yellow jumper so once she got back behind the bar she became visible and I was able to place my order.

I’d already identified this as a non-ale establishment and, ruling out the John Smith’s on the basis I wasn’t sure when the tap had last pulled a pint, I did like a local and ordered a Kronenbourg with an ice cream head.

This Black Hole of Calcutta wasn’t brightened by either of the two fruit machines or the jukebox as they were all switched off, presumably to save leccy? The gloom was only broken by the TV showing the 3.12 at Donny and the multi-coloured fairy lights.

I assume saving pennies in an old-school boozer like this is crucial just for it to survive and I doubt anything much has changed in this bar for eons.

You’re obviously not going to get bells and whistles here, though there was a dartboard on the back wall and a pool table through the door to the left, although it was stacked high with tut and the room was probably last visited before Covid.

Four stalwarts, already in position when I entered, spent the entire time absolutely fascinated by their phones, so much so they didn’t manage to speak as much as a single word to each other the whole time, in fact, I hardly saw them even shuffle off their bar stools.

I left the silence to take a swift tour and, once through the even darker back room, used only to store carrier bags, found myself back out in the light in a surprisingly large outdoor yard.

From here I discovered there is a decent view of the local church spire, a blue barbecue and a mysterious padlocked door marked ‘Me Only’.

Back indoors another local had shuffled up to the bar and this one was different because he spoke and as soon as his Fosters had been served he asked ‘Is it bedtime yet?’ before joining his fellow punters in another round of deep-chested sympathetic synchronised coughing.

The gents, in a variety of shades of brown, are probably exactly what you would expect to see with a row of urinals leading into a floor-level trough, but despite the somewhat rustic design they were fresh and well-maintained.

What might be less expected is the windowsill decoration with their strips of artificial turf standing out starkly in bright green. The shelf in the entrance to the gents is perhaps more traditionally decorated with its grey/brown pebbledash finish.

Our brightly attired barmaid was back in front of the bar and had finally been successful in engaging one regular in a reasonably animated conversation.

From my description so far you might be forgiven for thinking I wasn’t a complete fan of this blue-tiled old-school boozer with its dark interior, brown furniture with brown covers and inanimate regulars, but you’d be wrong.

As the popular new phrase goes, this pub ‘is what it is’ and the joy of the place lies fairly and squarely in the fact it has absolutely zero pretension and doesn’t care one jot what you think about it. I just hope the financial health of the Paper Makers is better than the apparent health of its constantly coughing regulars!

When I stopped briefly before leaving to take a picture of the Ginger Lives Matter sign on the wall the barmaid gave a wry smile and a chuckle before sharing a joke at her own expense – you’ve got to admire such a positive approach in the face of such adversity.

PAPER MAKERS ARMS, 131 UPPER STONE STREET, MAIDSTONE ME15 6HJ

Décor: If my nan was alive she’d happily move in here. Some interesting items dotted around, some classic ‘humorous’ signs and it’s got history. There is an old-school aroma though. ***

Drink: I’m sure this place has hosted a few real ales in the past, but it’s now strictly John Smith’s or a lager of your choice so it would be very difficult to score it any higher. *

Price: A pint of Kronenbourg, complete with a lively head, will set you back £4.30, which isn’t too bad at all compared with other places I’ve been recently. ***

Staff: One star for the yellow jumper, another for finally engaging a local in conversation and a couple more for the welcome and the grin about the Ginger Lives Matter sign – you have to admire her remaining upbeat. ****

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