Best Dartboard Pubs

Just what Stoke Newington needed - another pub masquerading as something exotic. The Yucatan Bar in London sounds like it should be serving up mezcal flights and authentic Mexican street food, but let's be honest, it's about as Yucatan as I am Yucatecan. And yet, against all odds and my better judgment, I find myself grudgingly admiring this place. First, let's address the elephant in the room - the name. This former Victorian boozer, once sensibly called The Walford, decided to go all spring break on us. But here's the thing: unlike most identity-crisis pubs in London, the Yucatan Bar doesn't try too hard to live up to its misleading moniker. There's not a sombrero or neon cactus in sight, and thank goodness for that. The interior reads like a love letter to traditional British pub architecture, with those ornate columns and etched glass panels that make you feel like you've stumbled onto a film set for a period drama. The dark wood servery running the length of the bar isn't trying to be anything other than what it is - a proper pub bar where your pint of Amstel (priced just high enough to make you think twice, but not high enough to make you leave) will be served without pretense. Speaking of drinks, don't come here expecting craft mezcal flights or artisanal tequila. The beer selection is resolutely mainstream, but sometimes that's exactly what you want. The Guinness, I'm told by locals who look like they've consumed enough of it to earn a PhD in stout studies, is consistently excellent. And isn't there something refreshing about a place that knows exactly what it is? The back area houses pool tables and a dartboard, because apparently some publicans still remember that pubs are supposed to be about more than just drinking while scrolling through Instagram. It's the kind of setup that makes you want to waste an entire Sunday afternoon pretending you're good at either game. For sports fans - and I say this with the weariness of someone who's survived too many overcrowded football screenings - the Yucatan Bar actually gets it right. Multiple screens strategically placed so you're not doing yoga poses to see the score, and an atmosphere that manages to be lively without descending into chaos. When there's a big match on, the place transforms into the kind of community hub that makes you remember why pubs matter. The service strikes that perfect London pub balance - friendly enough to make you feel welcome, but not so friendly that you suspect they're about to try selling you something. The staff actually seem to enjoy being there, which in today's hospitality climate is about as rare as finding a reasonable rent in Zone 2. Location-wise, it's a ten-minute wobble from Rectory Road Overground, planted firmly on the corner of Stoke Newington Road and Walford Road. The position makes it impossible to miss, which is convenient when you're meeting friends who still can't use Google Maps properly. Now, about the food - or rather, the lack thereof. Unless you count packets of crisps as fine dining, you won't be eating here. But in a neighborhood where every other establishment is trying to reinvent the wheel with their small plates menu, there's something almost noble about a pub that says, "We do drinks. That's it. Deal with it." The price point sits in that sweet spot where you can have a few rounds without having to remortgage your house, though it's not quite cheap enough to make it your daily. But then again, what is these days in London? For the skeptics wondering if the Yucatan Bar in London is worth their time, here's the reluctant truth: it is. Not because it's revolutionary or Instagram-worthy or even remotely connected to the Mexican peninsula it's named after. It's worth visiting because it's managed to maintain the essence of what makes a London pub great while surviving in an era where that's increasingly difficult to do. Go for the surprisingly decent Guinness, stay for the pool tables, and forget about the name. Sometimes the best nights out in London happen in places that aren't trying to be the next big thing. Just don't expect tacos. Or sombreros. Or really anything Yucatan-related. And honestly? It's better that way.

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a "proper boozer" while probably serving artisanal crisps and craft IPAs that cost more than my first car. The Horseshoe in London's Clerkenwell had me rolling my eyes before I even walked in. Netflix famous thanks to "Gangs of London"? Please. But like that one friend who's impossibly annoying yet somehow endearing, this place has a way of wearing down your defenses. Let's address the elephant in the room - it's suspiciously affordable for Zone 1 London. In an era where a pint can cost as much as a small mortgage, The Horseshoe's prices feel like a clerical error that nobody's bothered to fix. I kept waiting for the catch, like perhaps they water down the beer or charge you for breathing the air. Spoiler alert: neither is true. The layout is refreshingly honest - one room, L-shaped(ish), no pretense of being a "concept space" or whatever nonsense marketing teams dream up these days. There's a dartboard that's actually used for, wait for it, playing darts. Not as Instagram backdrop. Not as an ironic statement piece. Actual people throwing actual darts. It's almost revolutionary in its simplicity. The beer selection is where my cynical facade first started to crack. A solid lineup of keg options alongside a couple of cask ales that aren't just for show. They even stock bottled versions of cask favorites, which is thoughtful enough to be annoying. The staff know their stuff without being insufferable about it - no fifteen-minute monologues about hop profiles or brewing techniques unless you actually ask. The atmosphere is where The Horseshoe really starts to work its irritating magic. It's got that indefinable quality that marketing teams spend millions trying to manufacture but never quite manage. The kind of genuine warmth that makes you forget you're in central London and not some village pub that's been serving the same regulars since the Tudor period. The landlord's the type who remembers faces and actually seems to give a damn about more than just emptying your wallet. Football nights transform the place into exactly what you'd hope for - passionate but not aggressive, lively but not chaotic. It's the kind of pub where you can actually watch the match without having to stake your claim on a square inch of viewing space three hours before kickoff. The crowd's a proper mix too - locals, office workers, and yes, the occasional tourist who wandered in after seeing it on Netflix, but somehow it all works. The garden - and I use that term loosely - is another pleasant surprise. It's not trying to be some botanical wonderland or urban oasis. It's a place to drink outside when the weather permits (which in London means anything short of horizontal rain). They're dog-friendly too, which means you might share your outdoor space with a four-legged patron or two. Somehow, this adds to the charm rather than feeling like a gimmick. For groups, they've got enough space and sense to accommodate without turning into a corporate events venue. The payment setup is modernized (they take cards, contactless, all that jazz) without losing the soul of the place. And yes, you can actually have a conversation here without shouting yourself hoarse over whatever playlist some consultant decided would appeal to the target demographic. Look, I didn't want to like The Horseshoe. It would have been easier to dismiss it as another London pub trading on location and TV fame. But much like that friend who keeps proving you wrong about them, it's earned its reputation the hard way - by actually being good at what it does. Whether you're in Clerkenwell for work, live in the area, or just exploring London's pub scene, you'll find yourself making excuses to return. And that might be the most annoying thing about it - it's actually worth your time.