Best Characterful Pubs

Looking for the kind of pub that feels like stepping into your best friend's living room, if your best friend happened to pour the perfect pint of Guinness? The Mountain Bar in Wexford is that magical unicorn of a place where the craic flows as freely as the beer, and every visit feels like you've stumbled into the best kind of Irish hospitality time capsule. Listen, I need to tell you about this absolute gem that's somehow managing to keep the authentic Irish pub experience alive without making your wallet cry. The Mountain Bar Wexford isn't just a pub - it's the kind of place where legendary nights are born from "just one quick pint" promises that nobody ever keeps. First things first: THE GUINNESS. Oh. My. Days. When locals start whispering that you'll find one of the best pints in the country here, they're not just spinning tales. The kind of perfect pour that makes you want to take a photo before you drink it (but you won't, because you're not that person, right?). It's like the bartenders have some sort of secret agreement with the Guinness gods themselves. But here's where it gets really interesting. You know those pubs that feel like they've got stories literally seeping from the walls? The Mountain Bar is THAT place. The interior is cozy in that perfectly worn-in way that makes you feel instantly at home. No pretentious gastropub vibes here - just authentic, character-filled charm that money can't buy. Pool table? Check. And not one of those sad, neglected tables either. We're talking proper games where friendly rivalries are born and champions are crowned. Pro tip: challenge a local to a game, but maybe wait until you've got a pint or two in you for courage. Speaking of locals - they're the real heart of this place. Sure, you might get a curious look or two when you first walk in (especially if you're not from around Wexford), but give it five minutes. FIVE MINUTES is all it takes before you're somehow involved in the most entertaining conversation you've had all week. The regulars here could give masterclasses in storytelling. And the hosts? Nicky and Mary are basically the patron saints of pub hospitality. They've got that rare gift of making everyone feel like they're the most important person in the room. Plus, they've been known to bring out some epic bar snacks when the night starts rolling - because they just KNOW when the crowd needs sustaining. Here's a scenario for you: It's a match day. The atmosphere is electric. You're surrounded by passionate fans, the banter is flying, and you're clutching what might be the best pint of Guinness you've ever had. Suddenly, you realize this is exactly where you're meant to be. This is what people mean when they talk about "proper pubs." Let me drop some essential intel: It's cash only, folks. Remember when pubs were simple like that? But trust me, it's worth stopping at the ATM. The prices will make you think you've time-traveled back about a decade - in the best possible way. You know those nights when you check your wallet expecting devastation and instead find yourself pleasantly surprised? That's standard here. The Mountain Bar in Wexford isn't just surviving in an age of chrome-and-glass bars with cocktail menus longer than your arm - it's thriving by being unapologetically authentic. No fancy frills, no pretense, just proper drinks, proper people, and the kind of atmosphere you can't manufacture. Listen, you could stay home tonight. You could scroll through your phone looking at other people having fun. OR you could get yourself down to this little slice of pub paradise in Wexford where the welcome's warm, the Guinness is perfect, and there's always room for one more at the bar. Your future self will thank you for making the right choice. The Mountain Bar is waiting - and trust me, these are the nights that turn into the stories you'll be telling for years to come.

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a "proper local" in tourist-saturated Covent Garden. The Marquis in London had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. After all, this part of the city is where authentic British drinking culture goes to die, replaced by overpriced pints and Instagram-wielding visitors searching for that elusive "authentic London pub experience." But damn it all if The Marquis hasn't made me eat my words (along with some surprisingly decent pub grub). Perhaps it's the way this place wears its musical heritage like a well-worn leather jacket - not the try-hard kind you'd find in Camden Market, but the genuine article. The walls are practically wallpapered with vintage vinyl, and unlike most London pubs that claim to be "music venues," this one actually delivers. Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's in the heart of tourist central, and yes, you'll occasionally bump elbows with someone clutching a Covent Garden shopping bag while attempting to pronounce "Leicester Square" correctly. But The Marquis has somehow managed to maintain its soul, like finding Keith Richards quietly reading a book in the corner of a boy band concert. The beer selection strikes that precise balance between crafty enough to interest the hop heads and familiar enough not to frighten away the regulars. The rotating taps suggest someone behind the bar actually gives a damn about what they're serving, rather than just stocking whatever the big breweries are pushing this month. Prices are what you'd expect for central London - which is to say, they'll make northerners weep into their wallets, but locals will shrug and consider it reasonable enough. Tommy, the landlord, is the kind of publican you'd swear stepped straight out of a Nick Hornby novel. He runs this place with the kind of passionate dedication that makes you wonder if he's actually making any money or just living out some romantic notion of what a London pub should be. Either way, it works. The live music setup is refreshingly unpretentious. Unlike venues that treat bands like background noise for Instagram stories, The Marquis gives performers the respect they deserve. The sound system is clearly maintained by someone who knows their treble from their bass, and the acoustic sweet spot near the back bar is worth fighting for when the bands kick off. Food-wise, they're not trying to be a Michelin-starred gastropub (thank god), but what they do, they do well enough. The fish and chips won't change your life, but they'll satisfy that distinctly British craving for battered cod and thick-cut chips. The bangers and mash achieve that crucial comfort food status that makes you forget about your cardiologist's stern warnings. The crowd is an oddly harmonious mix of after-work suits, music enthusiasts, lost tourists who've stumbled upon gold, and locals who've been propping up the bar since before Instagram existed. Somehow, it all works, like a well-curated playlist that shouldn't make sense but does. Dog-friendly and sports-showing capable, The Marquis manages to tick the essential pub boxes without feeling like it's working through a corporate checklist. The payment system has dragged itself into the 21st century (they take cards and contactless), but the soul of the place remains firmly rooted in the golden age of British pub culture. For those seeking actual practical information: they're set up for both drinking in and takeaway (though who gets takeaway from a pub?), the toilets are present and actually maintained (a miracle in central London), and yes, you can watch the football here without feeling like you're in a Sports Direct warehouse. Look, I wanted to hate The Marquis in London. I really did. But like that friend who keeps dating someone you initially disapproved of, it's grown on me to the point where I'm grudgingly planning their wedding. If you're in Covent Garden and need a pub that hasn't sold its soul to the tourist devil, you could do far worse than ducking into this place. Just don't tell them I sent you - I've got a cynical reputation to maintain.