This is where dreams go to die. I wish that I could leave the review at that and warn you never to come here. Living close by I pass this place frequently and its aura just makes me want to run a warm bath and listen to Jeff Buckley and cry. I went in there once by mistake, confusing it for another pub and it was one of the few mid-stride u-turns I've ever done. Amusingly I wouldn't actually have been allowed in there as it's over 25's only. I think they're being a tad optimistic there, as the lowest age in there is at least double that. \n\nOutside the pub has its own mini-climate, a natural phenomenon caused by an ungodly amount of smokers puffing away consequently forming one of those cartoon style clouds over their heads. You can be guaranteed to see at least one punter storming out every few weeks with a torn shirt or something similar just generally shouting abuse, aptly confirming the name as The Grapes...of Wrath