Nags Head

I’ve been in my fair share of Sam Smiths pubs. Be it The Old Red Lion on Water Lane, The Angel off Briggate, or one of Mr Smiths other pubs in London, and of all of these there are two things that you can say about each and every one of them … the pubs are cheap, and the choice of drinks is usually lacking.
So when I was dragged kicking and screaming (not literally) into The Nags Head on a sunny saturday afternoon, I knew exactly what to expect. Or at least I thought I did.
Of course the drinks were cheap and of course the options were lacking (I had ‘cider’), but where The Angel, The Old Red Lion and other Sam Smiths pubs I’ve been in have usually had a modicum of style around them, offering fake wooden interiors, pleasant décor and usually friendly staff and customers alike (NOT at The Red Lion mind), The Nags Head seems to have been left back in the 70s. Like a bad 70s. Like think the worst 70s you can, then take a big of the niceness away.
And it’s a MAZE! (not Amaze)
Crazy winding corridors lead to the toilets (DO NOT BREATHE) and to the lounge, which is full of what I’m going to describe as ‘scallies’ and ‘criminal looking elements’ (of course it’s just a look and the people may not have been criminals at all). The bar man was helpful in letting us know that they had ‘cider’, and his missing teeth were almost missed (not) as he poured the two ‘lagers’ to accompany my drink. The décor in general looked like it had been lifted from a working mans club (back in the 70s) and nothing had really been done with it in a while (since the 70s).
More than anything tangible though, I honestly just felt scared whilst I was in the pub.
Everyone knows what to expect from Sam Smiths pubs, which is why what The Nags Head accomplishes is so strange — to be so far below mediocrity is very unexpected.
I’d rather wake with a Nags Head in my bed than be dragged back to this Chapel Allerton haunt.

I used to live directly opposite this place about a decade ago, and out of some misplaced nostalgia, or perhaps because our party was already really quite drunk, we decided one sunny Saturday afternoon to give ‘The Nags’ a go.
Now, I’ve been in some proper shitholes in my time, but The Nag’s takes it to a different level. It’s got the lot. Vaguely threatening old-​timers sat by the entrance? check. Urinals that REEK of stale urine so much that it stings the eyes? check. An almost coalmine-​dark interior, even though it’s a marvellously sunny day outside? check. Ripped carpets? Filthy bar? Virtually no stock? Nicotine yellow walls, and ceilings? check and check! I honestly felt like scrubbing my skin with hot bleach after we left.
Because it’s a Sam Smiths pub, your choice of drinks on tap is always going to be a bit limited, but this was verging on the ridiculous. Three options; bitter, lager, or cider. That’s one type of cider, one bitter, one lager. That’s it. A choice of three drinks. It felt like we’d accidentally walked into the 1970s. It’s also worth noting that because it’s Sam Smiths, it’s also dirt cheap — six quid for three pints! — but if the beer or cider is basically undrinkable, and tastes like a curious cross between washing-​up liquid and vomit, and you have to sneakily pour it down nearest drain (as we quickly did) then that ‘value’ doesn’t really mean anything.
No. It’s a desperate, awful, desolate, joyless, filthy place. Avoid.

The oldest pub in Chapel Allerton. I like Sam Smiths pubs as almost everything comes from their own brewery and the prices are cheap compared to other pubs.
My Sam Smiths Pure Brewed Lager was okay but could of done being a bit cooler. My friend got a white wine which wasn’t good at all. So the next round he asked for a red wine and the barperson advised him not to touch it.
It’s not the best Sam Smiths pub I have been to.