| Wednesday, July 31, 2002 |
 | George Orwell should be spinning like a turbine in his grave. Fit the right dynamo and we could power the pneumatic drills to bring these bastard monstrosities to the ground... You may recall an article he wrote back in '46, two years before 1984 was released, entitled 'My Ideal Pub'. A pub called 'The Moon Under the Water', with an attentive, busty barmaid, loyal clientele, cracking beer and the greatest atmosphere in the world. Of course (as you might have guessed), the pub doesn't exist; even fifty-something years ago the future of pubs looked bleak. Now, there are about as many 'Moon Under the Water' pubs as there are Red Lions. And they're universally shite. Are these guys even slightly self-aware?
Jamie shares this fascinating piece of information (the Moon under Water in Charing Cross Road is arguably the single least pleasant experience any human being could ever possibly undergo) in his crie de coeur against the modern publastic experience, brewed with Bavarian hops on the Upsideclown.
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