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The most desperate, depressing and downright degenerate atmosphere I’ve encountered for an awful long time.
Okay, it was chucking it down and everywhere was dark and foreboding, but this experience in Ashford was about as bleak as it’s possible to be.
Having walked across a bizarre town centre traffic system, and somehow survived, I came across a black and white timbered pub, The Swan, but it was locked up tight.
I crossed back over Tufton Street and within a few steps found myself outside The Phoenix.
Whether I walked past and missed it previously because my head was bowed against the driving downpour or because it looks so bland and un-pub like I’m not sure.
Despite the unappealing appearance, the pesky rain forced me into one of the dingiest, darkest pubs I’ve walked into on a Friday afternoon, or pretty much any afternoon if I’m honest.
There was a row going on at the bar about who had spilt John’s pint of Guinness so I wandered around for a minute or two to let the kerfuffle, and the head on John’s fresh pint, settle.
The multitude of screens tell you immediately this is a self-styled sports bar but none were switched on and all the fruit machines were also in darkness.
The whole place seemed devoid of light, humour or life, but at least the argument at the bar had been resolved so I stepped up to order a pint of the only beer available on tap.
A sign stated London Pride was a new offering and available for the bargain price of £2.20 – it began to dawn on me why folk might be persuaded to visit this place which is yet to rise from the ashes.
The barmaid, who apologised for her inexperience but also said she’d couldn’t see much after waking up with a dodgy eye, couldn’t get the pump to work but her co-worker advised fiddling with the handle and this finally proved successful.
Sadly though it still produced the worst pint of Pride I’ve ever had – and I’ve had a few bad ones.
I bravely soldiered on through a few mouthfuls but in the end couldn’t stomach it and returned it to the bar. I suggested they should perhaps try the beer themselves but neither were keen saying it always tasted horrible.
To be fair it was swiftly replaced with a gratis pint of Madri and the £1.75 difference in price wasn’t even mentioned.
There are screens everywhere, over the bar, in booths, by the entrance – but they were all switched off and, as there was no decent sport taking place, I would normally applaud this, but the odd bit of flickering light could only have lifted the atmosphere.
I visited the gents, which are up a long flight of stairs at the back of the pub, but back in the bar realised I’d been a mug for walking so far as everyone else just uses the disabled toilet. It’s remarkable how many of the Phoenix punters have a limp – or they’re putting it on to justify using the downstairs loo and avoid the steps.
Back downstairs the bar brightened a little at about 4pm due to a delivery of stock via the side door, brought in from a Fiat by an orange-suited fellow who carried everything in before grabbing a pint at the bar.
There is a stack of CCTV everywhere, even in the gents, and I spotted a plug-in air freshener in one booth but it was never going to rise to the challenge here.
I’m not sure who was choosing the music, but Wild Beasts by Dreamliner and Paperweight by Feeder did little to lighten the mood and at this point the tired and emotional folk on the table in front of me reignited the argument about who had spilled the Guinness.
According to one of the party, Dean in the grey tracksuit was going to remain in the doghouse for some considerable time.
I’d certainly seen and heard enough in The Phoenix and as I headed back into the Ashford rain I wondered how long it would take to find a decent pub in the town centre.
Would it have been a different story if The Swan had been open or The Taproom, which I also passed, not been in a state of stasis? I may never know.
The Phoenix, 12 Tufton Street, Ashford TN23 1QP
Decor: The darkest pub I’ve ever encountered with nothing to lift your spirits. It wasn’t clear what was creating the smell but a single plug-in air freshener was never going to be enough. *
Drink: The ‘new’ London Pride on tap was a very poor pint and should have been checked before being served. The replacement Madri was an improvement but bar staff need to take an interest in what they are serving. *
Price: They say you get what you pay for, but even at £2.20 this particular London Pride was still overpriced. A pint of Madri, which I seem to be coming across everywhere recently, was £3.95. Fishbowls were being offered for £6.50. **
Staff: I suspect the barmaids left in charge, while others undertook the cash and carry run, might have lacked experience so it’s difficult to blame them but they should receive better guidance *
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