No. 20 The Royal Oak

Visited on 10/3/11. This was the final pub we went to during our night out in Hoole - and we saved the best 'til last. Another Marston's pub and an absolute cracker it is too. Just look at the line up of ales: Jenning's Cumberland ale, Jenning's Cross-buttock, Marston's double drop, Ringwood Boondoggle. Marvelous. The place was packed with people who love ale and staffed by a landlord and landlady who love serving it. In addition, it has a really beautifully manicured bagatelle table (slight bias to the right mind). Ale + Bagatelle = Aceness. Huzzah !

No. 19 The Bromfield Arms

Visited on 10/3/11. Just over the road from the Faulkner, home of the 'Hoole Poseur', you could argue that 'the Brom' caters for the opposite end of the drinking spectrum. This is a big pub with about 50 odd flat screen TVs all seemingly tuned in to Sky Sport channels for the entire time the pub is open. Unsurprisingly, the bulk of the clientele are fat middle-aged, replica footy shirt wearing tellyclappers. In effect, it's become a temple dedicated to the worship of Rupert Murdoch. The ale was alright (Wychwood Hobgoblin), but any pub that prominently displays a 'This is Anfield' sign behind the bar is going to get slagged off by me. Let me put it succinctly - avoid.

No. 18 The Faulkner (bar and kitchen)

Visited on 10/3/11. Without doubt, there are more ponces in Hoole than in any other part of Chester - and this place caters for them. A true haven for earing wearing male schoolteachers and sundry fey bores, it doesn't know whether it's a pub, a wine-bar, a cafe or a restaurant. The result is an uncomfortable and pretentious amalgam. This used to be a half-decent boozer but now it's got pizza recipes doodled on the mirror with whimsical abandon. Surprisingly, in addition to yellow beer, ale was available (Caledonian Lipsmacker), but was £4 a bleedin' pint ! As you can imagine, service was brusque. We drank, sneered and left.

No. 17 The Lock Vaults

Visited on 10/3/11. This is a good old regular local pub which seems to be suffering a bit in the economic climate. The barman started serving keg bitter before revealing that he did in fact have some cask (hidden around the corner). He then proceeded to pour the keg away before returning with 4 pints of Bombardier bitter. I'm not sure if this constitutes good service or bad. The ale was drinkable though and we had the added bonus of seeing some keg Boddingtons poured down the sink.

No. 16 The Gardener's Arms

Visited on 3/3/11. This is the perfect local pub in many respects. It's a fine old Victorian building with original oak panelling and roaring open fires. On Thursday nights, the 'folkies' always manage to generate a great atmosphere with their gee-tars and fiddles - so much so that spontaneous outbursts of Oirish dancing regularly occur. Service is excellent too, but the big downside is the lack of emphasis on real ale. The cask was drinkable, but nobody really knew what it was. Get a couple of local brews flowing and this place would be superb.

No. 15 The Cherry Orchard

Visited on 3/3/11. The Cherry Orchard is named after Russian playright Anton Chekov's famous tragedy, which he wrote while staying here in the summer of 1896. Not really. I guess it's probably called the Cherry Orchard because it used to be next to a Cherry Orchard. Now it isn't. Anyhow, this famous local pub in many ways still  represents what a proper pub should aspire to. Yes, it does food but only early in the day. At night it's the sole preserve of beer drinkers and is still a focal point of the community. Three ales are normally available (Theakston's bitter, Deuchar's IPA and a guest) and whilst they are sometimes of variable quality, on this particular evening all three were spot on. It's a shame the mild has recently been moved from cask to keg though. All in all, this is a great pub - the only downside being the faint whiff of decay in the air due to the high average age of the regulars.

No. 14 The Twirl of Hay

Visited on 3/3/11. There was a big debate about whether or not this place fulfils the requirements of being a pub. It's just a bar in a soulless Premier Inn complex on the edge of town to be honest. Playpens and burgers attract families by day and by night it's the domain of the itinerant business traveller. Staff consisted of a disinterested male yoof and a coquettish poppet enjoying the attention of a couple of leering reps. Choice of beers was between keg brown or keg yellow. Absolute shite to be perfectly frank. We've got to do them all though.