Queens Arms London

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a cut above the rest. The Queens Arms London had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold, bracing myself for yet another mediocre experience in a city already drowning in establishments serving lukewarm beer and microwaved pub grub. But sometimes, just sometimes, life throws you a curveball that makes you question your carefully cultivated cynicism.

Let's get one thing straight - the Queens Arms London isn't trying to reinvent the wheel. It's a pub, plain and simple. But it's a pub owned by Rita Ora's father, which initially seemed like the kind of trivial celebrity connection that usually makes me want to run screaming in the opposite direction. Yet somehow, against all odds, this place manages to be genuinely interesting without shoving its pseudo-fame down your throat.

The first crack in my armor appeared when the live Albanian music started. In a city where "authentic cultural experience" usually means a watered-down version of whatever's trending on Instagram, this was refreshingly genuine. The musicians weren't there to provide background noise for selfie-taking tourists; they were there to actually play music. Novel concept, I know.

Then there's the food menu, which hovers in that sweet spot between "won't break the bank" and "won't give you food poisoning." The burger and pint deal at £10.90 is the kind of value that makes you wonder if you've accidentally stepped through a time portal to 2010. The chicken with mushroom sauce - which I ordered purely to find fault with - turned out to be annoyingly satisfying. Though I feel compelled to mention their calamari is about as inspiring as a wet newspaper. Everyone has their flaws, I suppose.

The space itself manages to maintain that coveted "proper pub" feel while simultaneously housing modern amenities like functioning air conditioning - a miracle in London terms. The interior hasn't changed much since the 1970s, according to local lore, but in this case, that's more charming than concerning. It's like your slightly eccentric aunt's living room - dated but comfortable, and you know there's going to be some good stories.

They've got sports on the telly, but unlike many London pubs where watching the game feels like being packed into a tin of sardines, here you can actually see the screen without developing an intimate relationship with a stranger's armpit. The outdoor seating area provides a welcome escape when the indoor atmosphere gets too cozy, though "outdoor seating in London" remains one of life's great oxymorons.

What truly sets the Queens Arms London apart - and I can't believe I'm saying this - is its complete lack of pretension. In an era where every other London pub is trying to become a "gastropub" or "craft beer destination," this place just gets on with being what it is: a solid neighborhood pub with some genuinely interesting quirks. The staff actually seem to enjoy their jobs (suspicious), the regulars aren't terrifying (unusual), and the beer is consistently cold (revolutionary).

Let's talk about the drinks because that's what you're really here for. The beer selection won't blow away your craft-obsessed cousin from Portland, but it's well-kept and properly served. The wine list is surprisingly decent, and the cocktails are made with more care than you'd expect from a place that doesn't have a man with a waxed mustache behind the bar wearing suspenders and calling himself a "mixologist."

For those planning a visit - and I can't believe I'm actually recommending this - the Queens Arms London is easily accessible, with paid street parking nearby and even a small lot behind the pub (a rarity in this part of London). They take cards, support contactless payment, and - brace yourself - actually let you bring your dog inside. It's almost like they're trying to make life easier for their customers, a concept so radical it's almost suspicious.

Look, I didn't want to like the Queens Arms London. I really didn't. But much like that friend who keeps dating someone you initially disapproved of, it's grown on me to the point where I can't remember why I was so skeptical in the first place. Go for the reasonable prices, stay for the genuine atmosphere, and accept that sometimes the best places are the ones that exceed your carefully lowered expectations. Just skip the calamari - there are limits to even my newfound enthusiasm.