DECOR *** (traditional) DRINK *** (Fine but nothing to write home about) PRICE **** (friendly on the wallet) ATMOSPHERE *** (free of outsider phobia) STAFF *** (very friendly and flirty if you’re lucky)

THERE is usually no greater pleasure than eavesdropping on a group of punters in a boozer debating one of your reviews. Or so I thought.

As I scouted around Ye Olde Black Horse for a cosy spotte to suppe on a beere, I couldn’t help but overhear a rather lairy group of drinkers talking about yours truly.

“Am sure that was him. He writes those pub reviews in the News Shopper, right?” said one punter.

What? Has my cover been blown? Panicking, I turned my back to them and headed sheepishly to the bar, but keeping one ear to the ground nevertheless.

He added: “Yeah, it was definitely him. He’s a really old guy.”

Excusez-moi? Old? How very dare you.

Resisting the temptation to position myself in a pool of flattering lighting and reveal myself as the real, hopefully younger looking Spy, I shot a look of disdain at my “fans” and signalled the barmaid.

I ordered a pint of Wells Bombardier beer (£2.75) in the hope it would soothe the sting from the punters’ ageism.

Spicy and fruity, it hit the spot and the low price tag was pretty sweet as well.

Despite the uninspiring but inoffensive traditional spit, sawdust and shag carpet decor, the labyrinthine layout and low wood beam ceilings mean there are plenty of cosy nooks to explore and settle down in.

The atmosphere is also welcoming, thanks to the giggly barmaid who I happily enjoyed a flirt with as I followed up my beer with a medium glass of Jacob’s Creek Shiraz (£3.59).

There was also not the usual suspicion from the locals I am glad to say.

While not quite vinegar, the red wine was not exactly a smooth ride either as it journeys to your gut, burning the walls of your throat along the way.

However, it’s a student favourite and with performing arts college Rose Bruford just around the corner, it’s probably a wise choice of tipple to stock.

Apart from the odd young luvvie, the clientele are a mixture of rough and ready skinhead bruisers, middle class suburbanites and everyone in between.

Anyone paying a visit here may want to bring some loose change to feed the jukebox which confusingly jumped from Lionel Richie to Duffy.

Perhaps in anticipation of this, one elderly drinker had come prepared with a portable TV and headphones.

There’s an extensive food menu, offering the usual pub grub fare of burgers, chips and various artery clogging stodge haemorrhaging fat.

It may not be part of the diet plan but it’s pretty reasonable value, with two mains for £10.

Ye Olde Black Horse is not exactly a must-visit, but considering the other options in this less than salubrious area, you could do a lot worse.

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