A keen regular reader wrote: “Have you considered the East Cliff Tavern? You won’t be disappointed - one of, if not, the best pub in Folkestone.”

I didn’t think it was a wind-up so I arranged a 100-mile round trip to visit this backstreet boozer which looks like someone’s front room frozen in time 50 years ago.

It’s a good job I had the address as it isn’t somewhere you’ll come across accidentally and it was as dark as the Black Hole of Calcutta.

Through the door a foul smell filled my nostrils - but not wishing to fall at the first hurdle I soldiered on, past the piano stacked with ashtrays and an aspidistra, to the bar.

There were plenty of pumps but most looked abandoned and I was left with a limited choice of just two drinks on tap, Loaded American IPA and Prohibition American IPA, both from Kent Brewery.

I spent a few seconds deliberating before landlord Richie broke the news there was no longer any choice as the Prohibition was finished.

This already made the East Cliff Tavern unique in my eyes as I’ve never visited another pub with just one drink available. Apparently no one ever wants lager, mild, stout or any other kind of beer.

To be fair, the 5% IPA Loaded, from the Kent Brewery, a brewery I rate highly, was a very decent pint and had travelled well from near West Malling.

I took my drink and sat on one of a row of brown chairs placed against the wall to the right-hand side of the bar.

I sat next to an old gas fire like the one my nan had in the 1970s before it was condemned - not to benefit from the heat, but more to avoid the wayward projectiles being slung by a trio of guys at the dartboard.

Even by my standards their aim seemed "couldn’t hit a barn door" bad and, purely with safety in mind, I was just about to move when they gathered up their arrows from the board surround and the floor before heading out the door.

When the landlord informed me this was the pub dart team and they were off for a match at the Foco Club he must have spotted my surprise as he then said they’re the strongest players in the lowest league – they’re holding up all the other teams!

This left just me and the landlord in the bar but he assumed a hunched position with his head in his hands on the other side of the gas fire and I was worried he was okay.

Fortunately at this point we were joined by pub dog Danielle the Spaniel, the liveliest and, to her credit, least smelly element of the pub.

Richie had raised his head but I didn’t like to disturb him further so offered to serve myself my next drink.

He said not to worry and, with it being St Paddy’s Day, I double checked that draught Guinness wasn’t an option. Sadly it wasn’t but a can of the black stuff was dragged out of a fridge and plonked on the bar.

As I wasn’t offered a fresh one, I just poured the Guinness into my old glass.

The only other fellow left in the pub, a local called Tony, re-joined us after a lengthy fag break and he and Richie talked about arrowroot biscuits, the war and people they’d met in the 1960s.

When the discussion shifted to Leaky Bellows (apparently a pub band which plays every Thursday and Sunday) Tony started singing one of their songs but fortunately it wasn’t long before he forgot the words and not much longer before he felt it was time to leave and rescue his dinner from the oven.

With just me left I immediately felt as if I would be keeping Richard from his bed by remaining so wished him the best and took my leave.

Sure enough, no sooner had I stepped through the door and I heard a heavy bolt being pushed home.

As my driver rounded a corner, just a few hundred yards from East Cliff, another small free house loomed into view and I begged him to stop briefly at The Lifeboat on North Street, believing the evening could only improve.

Equally dark outside, there was life of sorts inside as a few highly-indulged regulars celebrated St Paddy’s Day with a variety of trimmings, a selection of drinks, several dodgy hats and the most dated disco I’ve witnessed for at least 40 years.

A pint of Brixton Reliance IPA cost me £4.70 and, unlike the previous pub, the bar smelt fresher than the gents.

In fact, I left the gents as swiftly as possible, not due to the uncleanliness, but the fact water was pouring out of a light fitting in the ceiling.

In summary, I find myself highly conflicted. I’m a massive fan of unpretentious old fashioned backstreet boozers and as desperate as anyone to see them survive.

And I completely understand why East Cliff Tavern regulars would support the pub to their last breath.

But, there’s no escaping the facts and whilst it’s surprising The Lifeboat is surviving, it is nothing short of miraculous East Cliff Tavern is still alive and functioning.

How much longer two small free houses can survive in these Folkestone backstreets only time will tell and I sincerely wish them well. One thing’s for sure, when they’re go they will be gone forever and the town will be the poorer for it.

East Cliff Tavern, 11 East Cliff, Folkestone CT19 6BU

Decor: From the wooden bar, to the gas fire with one bar lit, to the antique cash register, to the aspidistra on the piano, this takes stepping back in time to a new level. Believe me, this is a one-off. ****

Drink: The pint of Loaded from Kent Brewery was a very decent IPA and I’d happily have this served to me any night of the week, but the fact it was the only option available has to drag the score down. **

Price: The cost model seemed very standard. There was only one beer on tap, which was priced relatively reasonably at £3.90 a pint. A can of Guinness from the fridge also cost the standard £3.90, which seems less reasonable, not least as it was DIY. ***

Staff: Richard drags from me feelings of admiration and sympathy in equal measure. This is clearly his life and I desperately hope it can continue. I send him my very best regards. ****

Catch up on all Secret Drinker's Kent pub reviews here

Click here to follow Secret Drinker on Twitter

Want more Secret Drinker? Sign up here for his monthly newsletter