The Shakespeare

A nice enough old man's bolthole located slap bang in the centre of town. Be prepared for a dozen wizened and tobacco-stained old faces to turn and gawk at you as you walk through the door - before continuing their rants on the youth of today and how nobody wears a proper hat any more. There doesn't seem to be any particularly discernible link to the Bard himself, other than possibly the fact that time appears to have stood still in here since the sixteenth century. Though that's obviously not counting the sly infiltration of Red Bull onto the drinks menu.

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