Royal George

Just what London needs - another Samuel Smith's pub masquerading as a proper boozer. The Royal George in London's southeast stands like a defiant middle finger to the craft beer revolution, proudly serving the same brewery's offerings it probably has since Queen Victoria was a regular. And yet...

I hate that I'm about to defend this place. Really hate it. But in a city where a single pint can cost more than a monthly Netflix subscription, the Royal George's prices feel like a glitch in the matrix. Two pints for what you'd normally pay for one? I initially assumed this was either a typo or we'd somehow slipped through a temporal vortex back to 1995.

The interior is exactly what you'd expect from a Sam Smith's establishment - dark wood everything, slightly sticky tables, and that particular shade of burgundy carpeting that somehow both hides and highlights every spilled drink since the Blair administration. There's a dart board that's probably seen more action than a Bond film, and a pool table that tilts ever so slightly to the left - though after a few of their surprisingly decent pints, you'll hardly notice.

Let's talk about that beer. It's not going to win any craft brewing awards, and the taps occasionally seem to be having what we'll diplomatically call "a moment." But here's the thing - when they get it right, which is more often than not, it's properly good pub beer. The kind that doesn't require a PhD in hop varieties to appreciate. The kind that actually tastes like beer instead of a liquidized artisanal bakery.

The staff operate on that peculiarly British wavelength where you're never quite sure if they're being friendly or plotting your demise. It's oddly comforting. They'll serve you with what could be either a smile or a grimace, but they'll serve you quickly, and at these prices, I'll take efficiency over charm any day.

What really gets me - and I'm grinding my teeth admitting this - is the atmosphere. The Royal George has somehow managed to maintain that increasingly rare thing: a genuine pub feeling. Not the Instagram-ready, carefully curated "pub experience" that's becoming depressingly common across London, but the real deal. Students rub shoulders with locals who've been coming here since before the students were born. Dogs sprawl across the floor like furry speed bumps. Conversations actually happen. Face to face. Without selfies.

The outdoor seating area is nothing special - a few tables that give you front-row seats to southeast London's street theater - but on a mild evening, it's surprisingly pleasant. Just don't expect table service. Or clean tables. Or, sometimes, tables that don't wobble. But again, at these prices, who's complaining?

They've got wine too, though ordering wine at the Royal George feels a bit like asking for a cucumber sandwich at a monster truck rally. It's available, but you're missing the point. The real value here is in the beer, the unpretentious atmosphere, and the increasingly rare chance to experience a London pub that hasn't been sterilized for mass consumption.

For groups, it's actually ideal - assuming your group isn't expecting craft cocktails or a wine list longer than their arm. The space is generous enough to accommodate a crowd, and you won't need to take out a second mortgage to buy a round. They take cards (a relatively recent concession to the 21st century), though somehow paying with cash just feels right here.

Look, I came to mock the Royal George. I really did. Another Sam Smith's pub in London should be as exciting as another rain cloud. But in a city where "authentic" usually means "artificially aged and overpriced," this place is the real deal. It's rough around the edges, occasionally inconsistent, and absolutely essential to the neighborhood's character.

Go there. Order a pint. Maybe play a slightly wonky game of pool. Let the prices remind you that not everything in London needs to cost an arm and a leg. Just don't tell too many people about it - some things in this city deserve to stay exactly as they are, slightly sticky tables and all.