I've already decided this concept is flawed - ranking the pubs based on social media 'likes'.
There are so many variables as to why you'd click the little 'thumbs up' .....
A pub you've been to yourself and enjoyed / recognise.
You like the look of it from my photos and fancy visiting yourself one day.
I've said something unusually witty or scathing.
Or you're just offering me support on my travels.
Anyway, here's eight more pubs which (sort of) according to you, aren't terrible but you certainly wouldn't be rushing to visit.
Old White Swan, Llantwit Major
I enter with a sense of apprehension. It is 1:50pm on the Saturday, Wales v Italy in the Six Nations is starting in ten mins and I'm scarred from last week's horrifying Station at Sutton Coldfield experience. I needn't have worried. Yes, a screen is on, but the scene is gentle. Smattering of English holidaymakers. One woman, who'd become known as 'Brave Janet' feels secure enough to venture "I might support Italy". Barmaid smiles with daggers. BJ's hubbie, 'Turtleneck Paul' hurriedly comments "I think Wales will break their losing streak, I can just FEEL it!" It was dreadful over compensation, but the kinda thing I'd have said if I had a Brave Janet in tow. Barmaid looks appeased and pulls me an Oyster Stout - a rare black beer this week. "Made with REAL Oysters from Swansea Bay!" it shouts. I take it to a hot radiator and rest my face on a calming inner stone wall. I can't even see the TV as 'Land of Our Fathers' strikes up a chord. Brave Janet giggles patronisingly. 'Toilet Geraint' sat by the woodburner throws me a smile as if to say 'I don't care about the rugby either'. Mood lit, creaky and the stout is good. BJ gives a surprised yelp as the Welsh score a penalty. "Well done them!"
Si's Verdict - I really rated this pub so I think you've done it dirty as us kids say. However, Daffyd from the Bus, one of the nicest people I met all week, tells me he isn't a fan, so maybe you're all right and I'm wrong.
My favourite 'Spoons of the week on a sleepy Sunday morning, and it took a while to get served. Allows me to flip flop over the beer choice, and you could be forgiven for thinking we're in the South East of England with Bishop Nick and Nethergate the main two guests. I opt for the latter, White Stout whatever the flip that means, but wow it is like the Milky Bar Kid wandered in, adjusted his specs, rolled up a Timbo mag, smacked me over the head with it, and kissed me like the Tango Man. Lovely. We had plush bench seating too. How often do you see that in Wetherspoons? Inner stone walls too. Carpet an 8.5. I couldn't linger for long, but I was more than content.
Si's Verdict - Tough crowd you lot, certainly not your favourite Glamorgan 'Spoons but I'm sure we'll get to them. I'd have had this finishing a fair bit higher. Maybe you were having a Sunday lie in?
Carpenters Arms, Efail Isaf
Far enough away from Cardiff to be considered its own entity rather than a 'burb, the Carp is EXACTLY the kind of GBG entry which has been appearing more regularly post-Covid, but CAMRA would never have DREAMT putting in circa 2014-19. I'm talking the loungelike rugged one cask locals boozer. I'm glad for the chauffeuring skills (and company) of my new pal Pub Ticker. We enter through a surprise 'no entry' door which has the locals raising eyebrows, although we get plenty of 'alrite boyos' as we take our drinks to a seat. Hancock's HB is the beer, one of those skinny relics I'm surprised hasn't been discontinued. It isn't very good. That isn't the pub's fault. It never is. The young dude serving has a permanently terrified expression. OF COURSE it is the kind of pub where you are guaranteed a cold weather related chat with a dude in paint stained overalls shoulder to shoulder at the urinals. He's been working in a derelict house. Someone brought a heater, but his colleagues kept forgetting to close the front door. Idiots! Freezing ALL DAY. "Grrr, brrr!" I reply in sympathy.
Si's Verdict - We are in agreement here. I enjoyed the mild peril, local camaraderie, but from a CAMRA perspective, just cannot see it becoming a mainstay and we reckoned the branch chairman must live next door or summat. Welshest pub of the week?
Another pub that wasn't in the GBG last year, and having been, I'm wondering why it is in this time. Unashamedly dining, I guess it is all about those summer vistas out over Glamorgan's countryside. In fact, our perky host tells me customers were lunching outside here only yesterday, as I shiver, tell him how cold I am, and how a couple of evil Devonians on my social media are claiming it 'isn't that bad'. English Riviera this isn't. Situated halfway between Corntown proper and the bus stop down a grey long straight road with nothing more than a grass verge, strong boots are required. Stone in shoe too, and dying for a wee, is this why they call it the golden mile? The super brunette Mrs Mile does a lot of smiling as I claim the best seat in the house, armchairs circled around the fire. A low ceiling helps with the atmosphere, but Butty Bach ain't a beer I'll ever love (sweet, like an acceptable Doom Bar) and it ain't in particularly good condition here either. Taxi to Southerndown? It felt right at the time.
Si's Verdict - You may have been overly kind here. Probably belongs in the 30's in truth, and I predict it could be the 2030's before we see it in a GBG again. And there's no way a local CAMRA chairman can live around the corner of this one!
Cracking location, and I can't get enough of Rhymney pubs. Love their style, like a less knowing Black Country Ales. You have the option of turning left or right, but definitely don't go in the door straight ahead or you'll bump into the rear of a lady crouched down sorting the scampi and bacon fries. Not my favourite pub in their mini-chain though, when you compare it to the Winchester in Merthyr Tydfil, Patriot in Pontypridd or Andrew Buchan closer to Cardiff - all of which I'd call bone fide mini classics. Lack of carpet was notable. Though perhaps I just wasn't concentrating because just as I'm being served, my new mate Pub Ticker swoops in from the other bar for his BRAPA debut and we sit down on the leather black benching and chat Isle of Wight & stuff. I'd chosen the Rhymey Bitter to keep up my run of 'unique' beers this week, but it ain't one of their better ones on this showing.
Si's Verdict - Yep, perhaps I'd have gone somewhere between 25-20 but I don't think you are too far off. Probably benefits from being busier, surely a better livelier pub around 8-9pm.
Tucked down the bible black country lanes outside Caerphilly, we reach the first genuine top tier pub in this countdown. One of a handful of pubs I visited this week which should be mentioned in the same breath as Worth Matravers, Bell Aldworth and Helston Blue Anchor, but isn't, and that's cool, let's keep them our little secret shall we? As long as no tosser pub bloggers start promoting them to the hilt. An added layer of intrigue were rumours of an upstairs room full of memorabilia popular in 1930's Germany ... sadly I couldn't find a staircase to check, but I'm sure the fact that the pub symbol resembles the iron cross is mere coincidence, and I'm vaguely remembering a Father Ted episode with a similar theme. This is a gem, the bar area is cluttered with folk who all look like Steve Lynex (even the young women) and although they are happy enough to part for me to see the beers, I lose my nerve and pipe up "Can I have the one wiv da tiger on?" This is a Weird Dad beer, I went to their place in Newport and the beer's on stunning form here. I have my back to the fire, jolly staff keep coming over and giving it a prod, as it is struggling to get going, but then we get this plume of woodsmoke filling the pub, mixing with some unseen salt & vinegar chips. A true classic, the type you'd love to get snowed in at we all agreed.
Si's Verdict - Ooof, you cruel buggers! Top 10 easy. But as with most pubs I did with Pub Ticker, I checked them all in on bulk at Cardiff's Cricketers Arms later that night rather than my usual 'live' twitterings, so I think they have suffered as a result. Plus it is quite a rural obscure pub you haven't heard of.
It wouldn't be a true BRAPA holiday without at least one funeral / wake infestation. Thankfully, I was here first. Outpacing a frail old guy in a suit on a zimmer to the bar. Early signs are good, top bantz with chirpy barmaid and local barfly over 'difficult to pull' pints. This Sharp's Atlantic is proving problematic, and she has to call her Da' over to assist, whilst I go for a pee. It isn't worth the wait, a tired freezing fizzy mess of a beer, the only ale on too. What is more, Zimmer man's younger aide arrives and asks me to move seats! "No need for that, the wake can go up top!" pipes up barmaid overruling the hapless twat and pointing to a raise area. Ha, a rare BRAPA wake victory! It even involves three of them shovelling zimmer man up an awkward step. Sadly, the arriving ladies in their 1950's perfumes and plunging necklines haven't read the script, and decide the seats near me are best. I think they've been attracted by the light of the handsome looking fire. Sadly, it is fake and offers no heat, which I tell people at regular intervals. The grieving scran appears to be tripe and chips. I was here for an hour but weirdly, time flew even though I wasn't having a good time. I'm crediting the ghost of the deceased for somehow speeding things up.
Si's Verdict - This would've come in bottom five had I been ranking, but I expect you find it amusing when I get into a 'Wake situation' so fair play to you and your cruel sense of humour.
We end part two in strange fashion, the most 'London' pub of the holiday was found 11:55am a short bus ride from Port Talbot, not the area you'd expect to find garish, twee chic. Quick chat with the lady smoking off to the right, she tells me they've opened early due to a kids birthday party in the back room. The CAMPEST excuse for a kids party I'd ever witnessed, not that I witness a lot of kids parties you understand. Felt like the kids were the sideshow to a sort of 3am Soho boho theme. Even the barman has a glittery spangly top. Another is in limbo somewhere between Sam Fender, Jesus and Ru Paul. One woman keeps trotting around with a sailor's cap laughing like a maniac. One kid gets a fireman's lift and is spun around the room but thankfully most of it is out of sight. There's me, cowering in the front corner with both arsecheeks firmly on two fabulous cat cushions as I sup down a decent pint of Scrum-ptious wondering if this is real. An old couple finally arrive, which helps ground me, but they are miserable sods.
Si's Verdict - Garish is better than grey, people are 'happy', I didn't dislike it for these reasons, so I'm kinda in agreement with your assessment of 25th place, possibly a touch high, possibly like most of the people here. All that was really missing was someone snorting cocaine off a dwarfs belly.
So that was part 2 and I've cancelled my #ThirstyThursday trip to write some of part 3 which will be out on Friday - though the truth is I've still not recovered from my recent excursion exertions!
Ta for reading, Si
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