The greatest reality TV series yet to be made is ‘Toffs on the Lash’. Here are some exerts from it that I’ve entirely made up.
‘Oh blahdy hell Tristan old boy I tried to touch that filly on the breast and it went ever so well, what, she slapped me and said ‘Fakkin’ cant’. Now I don’t speak ‘poor’ but that means I’m in there what what yes?’
‘Excuse me old chap but I seem to have been a touch sick on you gillet would you like me to send my driver to buy you a new one?’
‘A Jagerbomb? Is that some kind of military antique? Lets have four for the study’
‘Iaaaaaaaaaaaam gonnnaa gerra kebab and then Iaaaaaaam gonna go home and slap the butler.’
Undoubtedly some production company is already lining this up in it’s schedule after a few more instalments of ‘My Big Fat Gypsy Somethingorother’ or ‘Danny Dyers – Worlds Most Complacent Social Workers’. If you can’t wait to witness real world half drunk posh people then you could just head to The Antelope.
Please don’t assume that because of the ruddy posh clientele that I dislike this pub, because I don’t, I’m mainly using them to make some jokes and avoid a review which is all just gushing complements. It is in actual fact one of the best I’ve visited in the area and deserves its stellar reputation. On the edge of Belgravia The Antelope sticks out amongst the high fronts of Georgian townhouses and sits squat and humble at the end of the suitably named Eaton Terrace.
The low ceilinged main bar room is dominated by an island bar staffed by rugbyish types pulling pints from Fullers brewery which rarely missed a step in terms of producing tasty beer. An upstairs offers dining from a tasty looking menu but if you’re just after a beer then there are a couple of snugs off the main room in which to secrete yourself comfortably. A smattering of TVs at the back show rolling news and sport so you can catch up on the latest doom to befall humanity or ball sport related triumphs. However If you want to avoid the real world then these TVs are easily avoided and you can park at the front of the bar to gaze at the Ugg booted and fur coat wearing folk coming and going.
The Antelope is what I’d consider to be ‘classic’; warm, cosy and welcoming. You could easily get dragged into a major liver abuse session here because everything about it beckons you to ‘just have one more’. So what if the majority of the clientele is so posh they’d make Johanna Lumley sound a bit council estate? So what if they have their own cricket team? None of this matters if the sum total of the parts is a good pub and this is.