The Hungerford Arms

I can remember the first time my gym mates and I entered this dodgy looking pub two years ago. Mind you it was not out of choice, since this was (still is) the lesser dodgy looking pub out of the two near the gym that I go to at least 3 times a week.
But you don’t have to go in there, you might ask. Well, sometimes you need to top up your energy level after a hard work out with a pint of Guinness.
Anyway, two years ago, we decided to step into this pub after walking past it several times after training. We also scouted the local area for somewhere to top up our energy level before that, but the Hungerford Arms was the best one of the two.
Why did we choose it over the other pub? Well, the locals here are mainly old people with no teeth. Whereas, the one just down the road from it consisted of young chavs. So we figured, if we had to go into battle, at least we can handle the oldies with no teeth.
The first time we stepped inside the pub. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gave us death stares. We ordered our drinks, found some tables in corner by the jukebox and proceeded to settle down with our Guinness when a man in his late forties with no teeth, bad breath approached the tables and started to talk to us about West Ham FC. Not understanding what he was saying/​mumbling we nodded and smiled. Two years on, we still can’t understand what he’s mumbling about every time he comes to have a little football chat.
My mates and I, we still go there once a week after gym. We are part of the locals now so they just leave us alone most of the time. Apart from the West Ham man, who still think that we’re his best friends.
All in all, this dirty little pub is ok if you’re just passing by from out of town and needing a place to have a loud drink. But first you need to get through the initial unwelcoming stares.

After passing this place many times over the last ten years I’ve always declined to go inside. A couple of times I even looked in the window, then decided against it. It is one of the last remaining dodgy pubs left in the area. In other words you may have to deal with something or someone by stepping in.
Last Saturday, after spending four hours at the Rumfest event at the Excel Centre, where we tasted many different types of rum, and even sat in on a tasting masterclass, we were feeling very tipsy, a lot like pirates, and in need of something other than rum. Getting off the DLR at Shadwell, I suddenly remembered the Hungerford Arms. Since it was only about 6 p.m. I thought it won’t hurt to go in and have a quick lager. We walked through Watney Market, past the scene of many pitched battles between the Kray Twins’ gang and the Watney «massive.»
When we stepped in, it was like one of those moments in a Western movie, where everyone in the saloon stops talking and looks to see what the wind blew in. We strode purposfully and confidently to the bar, ordered our drinks, and planted ourselves firmly on the spot.
That’s all it took. We were more or less ignored from then on, which is what we wanted, and we proceeded to have a few pints and enjoy the atmosphere. The atmosphere consisted of pretty loud music, some young drunk lads playing snooker and banging on the wooden floor with their pool cues, some older men threatening amongst themselves to go and quiet them down (but never doing so, and I don’t blame them, given the fact that all three were holding wooden sticks almost as weapons.)
Basically, you bring attitude into a place like this at your own risk. All the same, you have to defend your ground.