Review

Stepping into The Laurie Arms, you’d be mistaken for noticing how wonderfully old-fashioned this watering-hole is, but closer inspection reveals that it isn’t just old-fashioned, it’s old fashion: the walls are crumbling, the wallpaper is peeling, there is more than one spider in evidence who’s enjoying the hospitality, and the stained-glass windows might have let light permeate in the 19th century. Although there are some nice lamps.

A quick glace at the tat littering the walls leads to suggestions that this pub has an obsession with Coca-Cola, or the endorsements must be good – there are Coca-Cola images everywhere, including neon signs, novelty mirrors, and other paraphernalia. An explosion of flora sprouts from above the bar, which must explain why the drinks are pricey – it must be expensive to grow flowers where’s there’s no sunlight! The blooming theme continues around the pub, with a variety of ‘flowers in a basket’ type obscenities lining the walls, the type of cheap, flowery things you wouldn’t give your worst enemy in hospital.

Big screen sport gets a whole new meaning here, where ‘Big wall sport’ should be more apt. This isn’t the biggest pub in the world, by any means, and the intrusion of an entire wall of sports, in addition to numerous TVs, is a distraction to those who come here for more basic activities, such as having a beer. There is a dartboard in the corner, but from the periphery damage to the woodwork, it appears that you can only play if you wear a blindfold, which is amazing, as the woodwork appears to be an original feature and surely an antique.

There is an interesting take on graffiti in the toilets, where amateur pyromaniacs have discovered you get a black soot mark on the ceiling by holding a flame to it – science lessons in school must have been a breeze for these genii. The ceiling has people’s names written in black, sooty dots - how wonderful.

The glass-collector is high-quality, and being that this pub is next door to the Hammersmith Palais, or whatever it’s known as these days, there are plenty of other women in here, but on a quiet night the women quota is reduced to Sheila, Shelia, Shelia and Shelia, who are bladdered on Fosters and causing a loud commotion with their fellow countrymen, Bruce and Bruce (yes, they’re Australian). Whilst I know Australia is capable of producing a high calibre of lady, the ones ‘out on the piss’ in London pubs certainly give credence to the fact that there are numerous species of wild animal in Australia that have yet to be discovered. You too can experience that Australian feeling by buying a few pints of Fosters and getting some free ‘clobber’ (a stupid hat, or a stupid mullet, or some stupid sunscreen), although you could get a cheaper Australian feeling by giving in to the beer-goggles and showing an Aussie Shelia a British shark in action.

Sadly, we have not visited when School Disco is open next door, but if the schoolies (and over-18s) are allowed in here on those nights, it must be a vision of heaven for those people in long raincoats that sweat and grunt in Mothercare. I am just amazed that such a legendary rock landmark as the Hammersmith Palais can be called something else, especially with the recent demise of The Clash’s Joe Strummer; it was he who sang, I'm the white man in the Palais, Just lookin' for fun . I’m the European in the pub next to the Palais just lookin’ for fun, but all I get is loud Australians, expensive drinks, crumbling walls, hideous flowers and a wall of sport.

I would like to believe The Laurie Arms is named in honour of that Bastion of the Warmington-on-Sea Home Guard, Private Fraser – the sardonic Scot, brilliantly played by John Laurie in ‘Dads Army’ – but I doubt it, somehow! Besides, the picture on the pub sign outside looks nothing like Private Fraser.

This is definitely recommended as a venue to watch sport, play blind darts, or as a pre-Palais nightspot, but otherwise…

Review by mr_psm