Trisha's (New Evaristo Club): The epitome of 'so bad, it's good'

Drinks don’t make a bar, and thank goodness, as the stuff served at Trisha’s – named for its owner – is uniformly pretty awful: red and white wine you’d consider an insult if a friend served it at supper, prosecco wildly overpriced, terrible spirits ecetera ecetera.

At more than 70, the club is Soho’s oldest, and while nobody who goes there can ever remember anything changing – it’s often quite hard to recall much about Trisha’s in crystal detail, as it happens – nothing needs to. The bad wine and expensive mixers and paint stripper spirits are all part of the point: it’s a glorious drinking den, and marvellous, marvellous fun. There are characters here: the last time we were in, we sat being scared witless by an old East End gangster who said he’s known the Krays. Tremendous. Long may this place live.