Some years ago in a small town near Tours, France, I went with old pals to the only bar open on a Sunday evening. It was the sort that appeared nondescript and unassuming, merely a resting post for locals and anyone else around; a place to drink several small beers between bowls of French fries far better than anyone could have imagined. But if the outside portrayed little, the inside was a cavernous space filled with red and blue lighting, elaborate art and a corner-bound karaoke stage as ramshackle as any. And the people: a small, portly woman who sang like a landlocked mermaid in dainty black boots; a trio of old boys, wined and moustached and watching on; a fun bartender with their merry band of friends; a husband and wife who may or may not have been hoping to invite some of us home.
These romantic, ridiculous places exist in London. Sporting Club de Londres is one, Tiroler Hut another. Then there’s Laryn, found on a meandering stretch of road between Brixton and Clapham and perhaps the maddest of all. A café by day and a karaoke bar by night, it’s chaotic to the point of delirium, almost militantly so. Find it not far from True Flavours, known to locals — I used to be one — for its pepper steak. Laryn is a red saloon with cocktails on tap, fairy lights hanging any which way, small TV screens, a dart board, a whirring fan as wonky as the revellers it attempts to cool down. Many drink lager, cheap wine and shots of sambuca and tequila. In the glow of Bud Light neon, they lean, sipping vodka Red Bulls before a dance as if this could be south London’s rougher version of Nam Long Le Shaker. Remember that place? The iconic Sloane Ranger favourite that once denied entry to Prince Harry for wearing the wrong shoes.
People visit Laryn to cavort, to sing, to admire the crowd, a cacophony of characters. It’s a haven or a mess, depending, a bar jauntily off the beaten track. You could pass it 100 times and not go in. Then one day you might and what awaits are new companions and the supreme and oft-unbeatable lunacy of karaoke. What else is there to do but put on your dainty boots?
9 Ascot Parade, Clapham Park Road, SW4, @laryncafebar
Bar snacks
Macallan at the Ned
The Ned, 27 Poultry, EC2R 8AJ, thened.com
City members’ club and hotel The Ned has opened its Library bar to the public for the first time as part of a partnership with Macallan. The space is tucked away beyond the open-plan courtyard, a quieter area for working, cosy drinks and date nights. Most of the prime locations at The Ned remain out of bounds for non-members, so access to the Library feels particularly special. The distillery’s most impressive drams are on show, and there are Macallan cocktails in the impressive grill, Lutyens.
60/40
Across the UK
The 60/40 trend for Guinness is supposedly new. Pubs are offering punters weaker pints by combining Guinness zero with the regular version, to the ratio aforementioned. But only the name is new. For more than a year conscious drinkers have been ordering a half-half mix of both, known as a “semi-skimmed”. Having a semi takes regular Guinness from 4.2 per cent to about 2.1, thereby improving the chances of a holy night at the Christmas do.
