YOU have to be 24 to drink in this place. And you are forewarned there are exotic dancers from 2.30pm until 11pm seven days a week.

Despite that, it really isn't "that" sort of place. It is a bit scruffy, but very friendly. If it wasn't for the dancers, it's the sort of place you could take your mum, almost.

I bumped into an old friend, Russell, who funnily enough, told me he was visiting his mum. Made me wonder if she was doing a turn.

Ray at the bar told me Charlie the "guvnor" was a really nice bloke. John behind the bar told me nothing but kept smiling. He'd seen it all before.

It was rather surreal hearing and seeing the buxom American dancer breaking off from her pelvis-thrusting routine to tell three leaving builders: "Have a good weekend, yeah."

I was a bit miffed to see one guy arrive with a paper under his arm. He opened it after ordering his half of shandy.

I don't honestly think he was planning on reading from cover to cover because he dropped it on the floor with his jaw gaping once the action started.

As each girl did her turn, I couldn't help reflecting on the multi-million pound drums of Moor Park just a few fish-net stocking lengths away. And doesn't it hurt to have a piercing in that sort of place?

This is a pub review so I will linger no longer on the dancers - though impressions of all three are etched permanently in my head.

The Prince was full of cash-in-hand builder-types who had done a real day's work. Hello, hello hello... I also discovered a couple of her majesty's finest constabulary playing pool, doing their best to ignore the floorshow (I don't think).

Some people, especially my mother-in-law, think it's an easy game writing these pub reviews.

Well I'll have you know that they are researched to the nth degree and to ensure my opinions of the Prince of Wales were accurate and fair I went back to confirm my initial diagnosis on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. How's that for dedication.

FA

January 30, 2003 11:31