Reasons To Be Cheerful #14

(If you’re wondering what this is all about, click here.)

The Wellington

For the real ale enthusiast (and yes, I now consider myself as such), The Wellington is a veritable oasis in the desert that is Birmingham city centre – as testified by the fact that thirsty, rotund bellied and impeccably bearded gentlemen of a certain age are drawn to it like Wayne Rooney is to sextaganarian prostitutes.

That, since its doors first opened around a year ago, it seems to have proved a massive hit presumably has something to do with the ever-excellent selection of beverages on offer. The beers available on any particular day are chalked up on the blackboard by the bar, each given a letter according to colour - A being the palest of pale ales, and E the Marmiteiest of stouts.

If ale's not your thing, then there's still plenty else to choose from - not least two or three different ciders and a whole host of continental lagers, as well as Erdinger on tap. You can have a pint of Carling, if you must, but be warned that if you do so you run the risk of being bundled into the back of a van, driven into darkest Staffordshire, put in the stocks on the village green, pelted with rotten tomatoes and probably mercilessly taunted by morris dancers for good measure.

One particularly distinctive feature of The Wellington is that they don't serve food, but do allow patrons to take in their own food, even going so far as to provide crockery and cutlery. The last time we were in, the table next to us was laid out with a veritable picnic.

Actually, it's not strictly true that they don't do food. They do, after all, sell a decent range of pub snackfoods, most importantly the local delicacy pork scratchings. There's a wicker basket behind the bar full of large clear bags of the stuff.

Mine's a pint of Parson's Nipple and some pig in a bag, please...