Assuming you’ve not spent the last decade living in a shed in Bradfield Combust, Suffolk (population <1000) trying to listen to the complete works of Joseph Haydn (2600 string quartets, 11900 piano sonatas, 480 operas, 6400 songs, 1500 string trios, 101 oratorios, 750, violin concertos, and 326 piano concertos) in one sitting, then the chances are you know exactly what a Slug And Lettuce bar is all about. If you don’t, then here’s a very brief overview….

These stupidly named establishments are ‘snazzy’ bars with lots of sofas and art on the walls selling overpriced drinks and food from shiny bars to young trendy types.

If you’re on a date and in search of neutral, inoffensive territory or want a quick post work drink near the office then you could do worse than visiting this place. But really, do you want to be in a sterile environment such as this?

Needless to say it gets extremely busy on Fridays, Saturdays and race days but this is unlikely to put you off if you’ve got your heart set on going here, in fact, if you do propose to venture here, chances are the thronging crowds will probably be one of the main reasons you visit as the hustle and bustle may well conceal your sordid attempts to brush against the buttocks of the opposite sex.

This particular Slug and Lettuce (there is a another one in Swinegate) does boast a good location next to the River Ouse (like many other river names, Ouse actually means ‘river so it’s name is effectively ‘River River’, arf arf).

The huge picture windows that run down the whole of one side of the pub are often opened at the merest hint of the sun. If you can grab one of these seats you can enjoy the view (imagine the Park Inn isn’t there) and try to get a suntan down one side of your body whilst you drink your beer, which by the way, is served from them stupid taps made of chrome that all look the same.

Admittedly, thepubsofyork.com has been known to frequent this establishment when needs must – aforementioned office parties, the birthday celebrations of cocktail loving girls and the odd barmitzvah, but would never actively choose to drink here. We’ll leave that to the local fashionistas and buttock stroking singletons.

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