The Olympia

Sat dangerously close to the Liverpool Olympia, like a man made of peanuts slumped next to a sleeping bull elephant, is the Olympia pub. Going for a pint here after a nearby bloodsport event can’t be too nice. I sensibly (I use that word loosely) went one unremarkable afternoon instead and it was quiet. Phew.
Oh yeah, it was also rubbish. Threadbare, forlorn and surrounded by the bleak wilderness of West Derby Road, the only thing that perked the dump up was an apparently ownerless dog scampering round the place chewing up beermats and climbing across our seats. Bear in mind that was the highlight and, coupled with the oddballs that must come here after dark, you have the recipe for an avoidable boozer.