Neeld Arms (Maida Vale)

Johnny Boy (Mean Streets)

*Landlord of The Neeld Arms says to Johnny Boy*

“Hey Johnny, was that a dustbin you just blew up out front?”

“No, it was a letterbox. But I bet you always thought it was a dustbin, huh? I know I’m a bit fruity but why would I blow up a dustbin? Bless my balls. Hey, do me a favour and give me a J&B and a seven and seven over here, will ya? And one for yourself. Stick it on the slate.”

Meet Tony, the landlord. Tony looks like he didn’t take a bath since last Christmas. What a scumbag. I’m Johnny by the way. I’m a small time hustler from Brooklyn. Irish-Italian. No wonder the Italians lost of the war. Right now I’m standing on a pool table in The Neeld Arms, beating the crap out of people with the back ass of a pool cue. It feels great.

You like pool, by the way? Me myself, I like a game of pool. Sometimes I get a little carried away and start fighting on the tops of the tables. I think it’s the Irish blood in me. It’s like a switch flicks on in my brain and that’s it. I just keep going, keep beating people in the ass until Charlie says STOP. I’m like a wind-up toy with that stuff. Wake the neighbourhood.

I think the pool scene in London has gone down the toilet. Let me tell you something: You want a game of pool in this neighbourhood, you’re in trouble. Trust me on that one. The table’s been stripped outta The Skiddaw and exotic dancers have taken over The Windsor. And they’re aged 60 and over, those broads . “Desperados” I call that place. The Carlton Bridge has gone and now there’s no lights above the table at The Chippenham. They shoot stick in the dark over in that joint. That just leaves The Neeld Arms.

If you’ve ever been to worse joint in your life then let me know. The pool table has been run ragged here. Nobody cares about nothing no more. You ever used a short cue round a table for the tight spots? In The Neeld Arms you use a chopstick. That’s right. That’s why I gotta stand on the tables. It’s desperate in here. I can’t get out. It’s like a box.

I been a little depressed lately. I never seem to have any money. Last Tuesday I had some but then I walk down the street I see Frankie Bones. I owe him forty dollars. Then I bump into Jimmy Sparks. I gotta pay out to him cos I been avoiding him for like six months now. He lives next door and keeps staring at me over the top of that garden wall o’ his. Then I run into Joey Clams. Blah Blah, Bing Bing. You know Joey? Yeah, Joey Scala. Same guy. I can’t walk down Chippenham Road without ducking that guy.

Nobody tries to help anymore. I’m in a big hole. I’m so depressed. I can’t worry about payments. But that’s okay in The Neeld Arms because the pool here costs about 20 pence a game. That’s right. You can’t argue with The Neeld on the cost of pool. Wow. What a dump. Going to have to get me another drink on credit.

“Hey Tony, can I have another J&B over here? Could you put it on my tab?”

“Well, I don’t know Johnny. I haven’t seen any money from you in a while, and we’re very mean here in The Neeld. It’s not the kind of place to cut you a break. Which tab should I stick it on, the big one or the small one?”

“Don’t you think it’s better than you should put it on the little tab so that it balances out?”

“So things even out, right?”

“That’s right.”

Hey, I just seen a couple of guys walking past carrying a crate of beer on their shoulders. Is that Tenant’s Super they got in there? Does a bear dump in the woods?

Yeah, The Neeld Arms is kinda out on the fringes here. The fringes of not much. By the way, the cues are all broken in The Neeld. I broke them myself. Maybe they’ll get some new ones. Hey, knowing this place, maybe not.

Let’s get out of here. Let me get my hat.

Tommy De Vito is having a similarly oppressive time down in The Metropolitan,...

Johnny Boy's rating for The Neeld Arms - 5/10

Savage Cheyne

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