Callaghann's

Just what London needs - another "authentic" pub with delusions of character. Callaghann's, tucked away in the decidedly unglamorous Poplar neighborhood, is the kind of place that makes you question your life choices as you approach its weathered facade. But here's the truly irritating part: despite my best efforts to dismiss it, this stubbornly unpretentious establishment has managed to get under my skin.

Let's address the elephant in the room - this is a post-war pub built in 1951, which in London terms makes it practically adolescent. Yet while its fancier cousins in Shoreditch desperately manufacture ye olde charm with reclaimed wood and Instagram-ready lighting, Callaghann's wears its working-class heritage like a slightly tattered but well-loved jacket.

The interior is exactly what you'd expect, which is precisely what makes it unexpectedly refreshing. West Ham memorabilia clutters the walls with gleeful abandon, alongside photos of pop stars who probably never set foot in the place. The L-shaped bar wraps around the room like a protective arm, and yes, there's a pool table and dartboard because of course there is. It's all so wonderfully, infuriatingly predictable that it loops back around to endearing.

Now, about the drinks. If you're expecting craft IPAs with notes of Ethiopian coffee beans and hints of unicorn tears, you're in the wrong postcode. The beer selection is straightforward - Carlsberg, Guinness, and other familiar faces that won't challenge your palate or empty your wallet. And here's the thing that pains me to admit: sometimes a perfectly pulled pint of regular beer at a reasonable price is exactly what you need. The Guinness, I'm told by reliable sources, is actually quite good. Though I suspect admitting that might get my critic's license revoked.

The service is... well, it's a study in contrasts. Some reviewers rave about friendly staff, while others recount encounters that sound like deleted scenes from "Fawlty Towers." My experience landed somewhere in the middle - the kind of authentic London pub service that doesn't so much welcome you as acknowledge your existence with a slight nod. It's refreshingly honest, if nothing else.

What's particularly vexing is how the place manages to maintain its character despite being part of Chrisp Street Market, the UK's first purpose-built pedestrian shopping area. While neighboring establishments chase trends, Callaghann's stubbornly remains what it is - a proper pub that serves proper drinks at proper prices. The audacity of such simplicity in modern London is almost admirable.

For those keeping score at home, yes, there's a stage for live music, though I can't vouch for the quality of entertainment. The food menu sticks to pub classics - sandwiches, toasties, and jacket potatoes that won't win any Michelin stars but will soak up the beer effectively. It's the kind of food that makes you think, "Well, I've eaten worse," which in London's current dining landscape is somehow refreshing.

The real charm - and I use that word under duress - lies in its complete lack of pretense. In a city where even corner shops are being converted into small-plate wine bars, Callaghann's steadfast refusal to change with the times feels less like stubbornness and more like quiet rebellion. It's the kind of place where you can actually hear yourself think, probably because your thoughts are drowning out the lack of carefully curated playlist.

Located steps from All Saints DLR station, it's almost suspiciously convenient to reach. The surrounding area maintains that distinctly East London mix of historic charm and urban grit that estate agents optimistically call "character." And while I'm loathe to admit it, there's something oddly comfortable about nursing a pint here while watching local life unfold through windows that could use a wash but somehow look better without one.

Look, I didn't want to like Callaghann's. It would have been easier to dismiss it as another unremarkable London pub past its prime. But if you're seeking an authentic slice of East London pub life, complete with reasonable prices and zero pretense, you might as well give in - as I grudgingly have - and pay it a visit. Just don't blame me if you end up making it your regular. I accept no responsibility for the consequences of discovering a genuine London pub hiding in plain sight.