Shakespeare (Victoria)

Mick Dundee (Crocodile Dundee)

Goodday cobber, Mick Dundee here. Just flown in from New York, and I'm lookin' forward to me first pint of beer in a proper pommy pub.

I've taken the Gatwick Express into Victoria, which I'm guessing is named after the old bag that sent me great-nan and granddad down under!

Bonza. I've just clocked me first genuine British boozer too. It's called The Shakespeare and it's right opposite the station.

What a place for a bloke to arrive, a pub called the Shakespeare in a place called Victoria. What could be more British. I can't wait to get my convict backside over the road and soak in the atmosphere, if I can just get past the smokers, buses and taxis.

Well I've made it into the first British pub that thousands of tourists see each year. But strewth, I have to tell ya - what a dump! I thought you Brits had a reputation for classy joints? Crikey, this place is worse than a dunny in the outback. Even Walt would turn his nose up here!

For a start, there are no decent Sheilas, apart from a girl behind the bar and the tables are covered in crap. Funny to see everyone drinking Fosters too. You poms are crazy if you think an Aussie bloke would go near it. Strictly one for the poofters.

I've ordered some fish and chips from the bar. The sign outside said they are world famous. Well, I can't claim to be the voice of international travel, but I've been around a bit, and I'll be honest I've never heard of The Shakespeare's famous fish and chips. Big Ben, yup. Buck Palace, you bet, Shakespeare's fish and chips – no chance.

Food's arrived, far too quick and the cutlery's filthy. I asked the waitress to bring me new ones, but I don't think she speaks the lingo. I pointed to the fork and got me 12" hunting knife out of the holster to show her.

"Now that's a clean knife," I said.

She got the message and soon I was tucking in to me tucker. What's it taste like? Well, you could live off it, but it tastes like crap.

Strewth, I've just noticed a couple of hairy lookin' blokes on the other side of the bar. They look like trouble and have started giving me the evil eye. Ol' Mick Dundee's not one to start a fight, but I believe in gettin' in a first strike in if trouble's coming me way.

So I get me boomerang out and chuck it over the other side of the bar to knock one of the gorillas down. I wanna let them know straight off that this Ossie bloke's not gonna stand for any nonsense. But the pub's got a low roof and me stick doesn't fly five yards before it hits the ceiling. Falls cluttering to the floor.

Now they're coming me way, so I try my second trick. It's a little mind game I play with critters in the bush. First I form a fist, stick out me little finger and forefinger. Then I move my arm slowly down while making a strange noise like a somber didgeridoo.

That's done it. One of the gorillas crashes to the ground sound asleep; the other stays standing, swaying like he's in a trance.

"Out of the way dopey," I say, and push past headin' for the door. That's it, I've 'ad enough.

The drinkers are all clapping, but I'm not sticking around for afters. If this is an example of a pom pub you can stick it; I'm getting on the first train back to the airport - flying back to a place where I can wash me ass in a funny-shaped toilet, not drink in one.

Mick Dundee's rating for the Shakespeare – 0 / 10

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