Cartoons of foxes in waistcoats, and other features of truly characterless gastropubs

SOULLESS pubs feigning a long rustic history always pull the same interior design crap based around the same few bollocks items: 

Cartoons of foxes in waistcoats

What could be more English than the fox, nature’s murderous bastard, dressed up like an estate agent on a shooting weekend? Fun the first time you saw it, when you were five, but the joke wears thin when it’s repeated in every gold-painted plastic frame on the way to the loo, from frogs in tweeds to sheep in cravats.

An enormous bookcase

Ceiling-high platforms filled with dusty books are like something from a film and look just as unreal in a gastropub because they literally are. These bought-by-the-yard encyclopaedias are nothing but thick wallpaper. And it would be odd to read them in a busy pub while customers queue at the carvery, even if you’ve forgotten your phone.

Vintage adverts

It’s easy to forget what a wartime sign for Colman’s Mustard looks like until entering one of these establishments, at which point you’re bombarded with them like 1920s pop-ups. Two pints in you’ve already concluded the Guinness toucan can go f**k itself, then the sleazy fifties pin-up cigarettes ads at the urinals send you out for a smoke and you never return.

Old maps of the area

You should already know exactly where you are, blowing £40 on stale IPAs and a burger one notch up from a Rustler’s, but there’s nothing like a 200-year-old map. Learning the original site was a turnpike next to a pig farm gives so much more character to binge-drinking your way through a Sunday roast with your parents.

Fake taxidermy 

This country’s wildlife can’t provide the grandeur of a moose head, so there’s a shabby stuffed stoat ogling you while you munch a ‘Best of British’ croquette. Even more generic is a bronze stag head to remind patrons a pub used to be worthy breaks after a hunt, rather than somewhere kids are given a placemat to colour and overpriced Tyrrell’s.

Year-round bunting

No need for a coronation, World Cup or swimming gala for this pub to celebrate because the bunting never comes down. Whether it’s a wake or a standard nationwide-run quiz, they’ll include the same neutral coloured flags half-draped over a mirror, giving the impression that a singular moment of fun died long ago and you’re drinking in its grave.

Internet definitely to blame for this but nobody sure quite how

THE re-election of Trump is definitely the internet’s fault in a way that has yet to be specified, everyone has agreed. 

In the absence of any other plausible explanations for why a rambling septuagenarian with no real campaign or beliefs and a terrible record won an election in a landslide, the blame has fallen squarely on the internet.

Jordan Gardner of Gravesend said: “Maybe the online manosphere radicalised Gen Z voters and sent them out to cast Trump ballots for the lolz?

“I mean I don’t really know what most of those words mean, but they’re definitely internet-connected. And when something goes completely mental, crashes and never works properly again, experience tells me that’s the internet.”

Hannah Tomlinson of Cardiff agreed: “Trump’s an arsehole, social media’s full of arseholes, that’s not just coincidence. Elon Musk bought Twitter, that’s probably important. Jeff Bezos is Qanon? I’m just throwing words out here.

“Anyway, I’ll leave it to the clever bastards in the future to work out exactly how the internet’s caused this bloody disaster. All I know is that Tim Berners-Lee can f**k off.”