Turners Bar (Millennium Hotel, Mayfair)

Jim Bloggs (When the Wind Blows)

Everyone's different.

For some, the measure of a properly good pub is a strong line-up of real ales. For others it might be a congenial atmosphere, or reasonably priced drinks, or a group of friendly regulars.

For me though, there's really only one question I ask when I consider walking through an unknown door; is this boozer a nuclear-free zone?

That's the thing I love about the Millennium Mayfair Hotel. There's nothing here that even hints at sub-atomic action. I don't even bother with the old Geiger Counter when I'm propping up Turner's bar, listening to the pianist gently tinkling the ivories.

I suppose my 'decent pub criteria' might seem a bit strange to some. But since that bothersome summer of global thermo-nuclear annihilation, I've had a bit of a thing about radioactivity. Others tell me it's just coincidence, but I'm convinced my wife's death (and those of nearly six billion others) had something to do with the explosions and those enormous clouds of fire and smoke.

If you want to know the truth, I can't help feeling the government let us down a little bit during the whole kerfuffle. Maybe I have become a bit obsessed, but it's their fault. I mean, I did what I was told. I pulled the doors off their hinges, painted myself white and buried the missus in the garden.

Followed "Protect and Survive" to the letter. They did nothing. Even the BBC failed us, stopped broadcasting stories about how rubbish teachers are and how the NHS is failing. In fact they stopped broadcasting full stop!

I suppose I mustn't grumble. 25 years on, at least I'm still active enough to come down the boozer, even though I'm old, fat and – of course – completely bald, even round me wrinkled-old Larry Grayson.

But that's enough chit chat; time for a drink.

 * Gestures to the barman to come over (All barmen are named either Jose or Lloyd. This one is Lloyd) *

Lloyd: "Hello sir, what'll it be tonight then?"

Jim: "You know what Lloyd; I think I'm going to have a night off the grog. Couldn't rustle us up a nice cup of tea, could you please?"

Lloyd: "Certainly sir, one lump of Polonium or two?"

Jim Bloggs rating for Turners Bar in the Millennium Mayfair – 8 / 10

Sputnikski

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