CHIPS with curry sauce is not my usual lunchtime fare, it must be said. But in this welcoming hostelry which is situated on a busy main road in Deptford, the traditionally Northern delight took my fancy, and then some. It can be highly recommended, I can tell you, and my pint of Courage Best went down very smoothly, too. In fact, The Duke, during the quiet hour I visited, was a most agreeable venue. A group of boisterous builders ordering Nelson Mandelas (a Stella Artois, I gathered) and, by chance, a fascinating debate on the television quietly blinking at me from the corner filled the empty spaces. I wouldn’t be surprised if The Duke was rather a favourite in Deptford in the evenings too. A friendly landlord can make any pub worthwhile. A smile can be too much to ask from many a modern manager, it would seem. A mere corporate grin is not what I want to be greeted with when I venture into a pub to relax. But at The Duke the genuine friendliness is there for all to see. I was even asked if my food was okay — a gesture which took me so much by surprise I confess I began reminiscing about the days of old, when customer care meant more than sticking a newspaper page above the urinals. (Do pubs also stick newspapers on the back of cubicles in women’s toilets? Answers on a postcard, please.) The look in The Duke is not what you would call up-to-the-minute — it certainly was not done up by Mohammed Al Fayed. But what does it matter if the decor doesn’t match Harrod’s latest range when the beer tastes so good? The Duke, whoever he was, would have been proud.