The Stanley Arms

Just what London needs - another traditional pub claiming to be the real deal. The Stanley Arms in Bermondsey had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. Union Jack cushions? Signed Millwall shirts? Oh, spare me the performative patriotism and local pride. And yet...

I hate to admit it, but this mid-nineteenth century boozer got under my skin. The moment you step through the door, that stunning curved bar with its gilt lettering hits you like a perfectly pulled pint of bitter truth - they just don't make them like this anymore. The ceiling, painted in what should be a garish blue, somehow works. It's like stumbling into your great-uncle's perfectly preserved front parlor, if your great-uncle had impeccable taste and a gold disc from Aretha Franklin on the wall.

Let's talk about the beer selection. Yes, it's all keg, and yes, the usual suspects are present and accounted for. But here's the thing - when was the last time you had a proper pint in London for under six quid that didn't taste like it was filtered through a student's sock drawer? The Stanley Arms manages to serve familiar brews with the kind of care usually reserved for craft beer temples where the bartenders have more facial hair than life experience.

The atmosphere is where this place really shows its hand. During my visit, there was that perfect pub buzz - enough chatter to feel alive, not so much that you have to shout your drink order. The 80s classics playing in the background should have been tacky, but somehow felt right, like bumping into an old friend you'd forgotten you actually liked. The regulars don't give you that "tourist in the local pub" death stare, and the staff actually seem to enjoy their jobs, which in London's hospitality scene is rarer than a reasonable rent price.

Speaking of the space itself, it's immaculately maintained without feeling sterile. Those traditional elements - the etched glass, the proper carpet (yes, an actual carpet that doesn't make you want to hover above it), and those beautiful fireplaces - create an environment that's both nostalgic and genuine. It's like they've managed to preserve a slice of old London without turning it into a theme park attraction.

The location, perched on the western edge of Southwark Park, means you're not fighting through tourist hordes to get to the bar. Bermondsey tube station is close enough to be convenient but far enough to keep away the party buses of pub crawlers who think they're starring in their own London documentary.

No food menu might seem like a drawback, but the bar snacks are there if you're desperate, and honestly, it's refreshing to find a place that knows what it is - a proper pub, not a gastropub pretending it invented the scotch egg. Besides, there are plenty of proper food options in the area if you're actually hungry.

For sports fans (particularly of the Millwall persuasion), the atmosphere on match days is electric without crossing into intimidating territory. The multiple screens are positioned so you can actually see them - a concept apparently foreign to many London pubs - and the volume is set at that sweet spot where you can hear the match without feeling like you're sitting in the commentary box.

Look, I wanted to dismiss The Stanley Arms as just another London pub trading on nostalgia and location. But despite my best efforts to maintain my professional cynicism, I found myself won over by its unpretentious charm and attention to detail. It's the kind of place that reminds you why pubs became the cornerstone of British social life in the first place.

If you're in Bermondsey and looking for an authentic London pub experience that won't drain your bank account or your faith in humanity, The Stanley Arms is worth your time. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.