The Marquis

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.