DECOR *** (uninspired) DRINK ***** (a boozy dream) PRICE **** (great value) ATMOSPHERE *** (fair) STAFF ***** (refreshingly brilliant customer service) FOOD *** (sizzling but lacking flare)

LIKE a bloated geriatric whale bobbing in a sea of young, trendy gastro pubs, The Yacht has chosen to eschew 21st century fashion and give its clientele what they want.

And what do the good people of Bexleyheath want?

Make no mistake, they don’t want some teeny tiny strips of overpriced game garnished with vegetables so unusually named you need the aid of a dictionary to know what you’re consuming.

They want meat — big juicy slabs of flesh, sizzling and spitting on a hot plate like a scorned weightlifter who’s just checked in to the athlete’s village in New Delhi and forgotten to bring his anti-bacterial wet wipes and snake repellent.

As if welcoming punters to Dante’s seventh circle of hell, the sign outside picturing a steak engulfed in flames proudly announces The Yacht as a Flaming Grill pub.

While the decor is what you would expect from a chain pub — impersonal and charmless — this cavernous family boozer with a dark polished bar and tables is not entirely without a soul.

And this is mainly down to the exceptionally friendly and helpful staff who go beyond the call of duty to make you feel welcome and provide that all too often rare quality in pubs today — customer service.

From making sure I had all the condiments I needed to fastidiously checking everything was up to scratch halfway through my meal, the waiting staff were attentive without pestering.

I was so impressed I didn’t have the heart to tell them my so-called black and blue burger (£5.50) lacked both enough stilton cheese and blackened cajun spice to justify its name.

Fortunately, there was a dazzling array of ales, lagers and beers to wash the disappointingly bland grub down with.

As readers may know, The Yacht won the south east category in this year’s Great British Pub awards for its perfectly maintained cellar and I certainly have no complaints about my pint of London Pride (£2.78).

With autumn already here, the beer garden has probably seen the last of The Yacht’s fresh air fiends retreat indoors, but it’s still a pleasant area where smokers can puff on their cancer sticks.

The last time I ventured into Bexley borough I feared for my life at The Ship in Erith, where there’s apparently now a dartboard with my name on it.

Although I’m thankful they didn’t choose a toilet bowl for their voodoo curse, the threat was such I bided my time before returning to this neck of the woods again.

But it was worth the wait and The Yacht is proof that quality of service does not always have to suffer because of a pub’s size and a corporate chain’s logo tagged before its name.

However, with not a spot of water in the area, I am slightly miffed about the boozer’s nautical name.

Perhaps residents are preparing for a biblical flood and hope to use the pub as a giant ark?

If so, I’ll be more than happy to hole up in this pub’s immaculate cellar for 40 days and the first round is on me.