Bar Solo

Now let's get one thing straight: we're not that fussy. We chat to freaks at bus stops, count radioactive-yellow chips as an entire food group, and often get blanked by check-out boys in Tesco. In a busy bar we'd expect to remain semi-invisible while the bar staff concentrate on serving boys with well-applied eyeliner and girls with their tits out. But here, one of our previously favourite places to eat and drink, we were not only ignored for 20 minutes on a quiet afternoon – we timed; there were witnesses – but no one batted an eyelid when we walked out either. The fancy new rustic makeover must have gone to their heads. And you know what? It's not even that good.

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