DECOR *** (plain and simple) DRINK **** (great ale is let down by rancid wines) PRICE ***** (unbeatable) ATMOSPHERE * (jungle law applies) STAFF * (rude) FOOD ** (skip a meal if you have to)

I KNOW I shouldn’t defecate where I eat but when nature calls and the boozer you’re supping a pint in is like a Natural History Museum exhibit on Darwin’s Origin of the Species, sometimes you have to find the nearest bush, unzip and think of England.

You know you are nearing The Sovereign of the Seas pub in Queensway when your nasal hairs stand to attention at the aroma of stale beer mixed with a hint of vomit wafting down the street like a trail of stinking skunk spray.

Once inside and you’ve navigated past the semi-permanent horde of drunks crowded at the open door, puffing on cancer sticks or propping up the bar slurring obscenities, you’ll notice an amazing array of urban wildlife which can be spotted feeding here.

If you’re lucky, you may see the blue-haired lesser spotted pensioner sipping on chardonnay, mothers suckling screaming bush babies and flocks of cackling birds, preening their feathers and puffing out their chests in the hope of finding a potential mate.

However, perhaps the most common species to frequent this establishment is the famous bald headed ape, whose insatiable thirst has been known to empty a keg of beer in under an hour if left to its own devices.

Well known as the favourite drinking spot of News Shopper employees, this Wetherspoon pub is popular for a reason and it’s not because of the interesting fauna.

There are only two explanations for why people choose to drink at The Sov.

One reason is the great selection of ales and the other reason is its dirt cheap prices, which make supermarket value beer look like daylight robbery.

Currently enjoying an international ale and cider festival, which runs until October 23, the boozer has one more reason to visit it this month.

Most sell at around £2.25 a pint, so I went for broke and ordered two — Eclipse and Pilgrim Progress.

The former was devilishly dark and smoky while the latter was, quite simply, heavenly.

Thirst quenched and knowing it was the chain’s Thursday curry club, I went for the luxury Malabar prawn curry and a colonial G&T (all for just £6.59).

My dish could be described as luxury in the very loosest possible sense of the word.

The dish lacked the firepower which was promised on the menu and the prawns were so overcooked they had the consistency of rubber.

Parched after my disappointing meal I returned to the bar and ordered a pint of Cheddar Valley Cider (£2.25).

However, far from refreshing, it was unpleasantly sharp, with a slightly chemical after taste.

And if you’re wondering what the other abrasively bitter flavour is lingering on your palette long after you have left the place, you will probably find it is the unforgivably rude service, served with lashings of resentment.

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