Dickie’s

Dickie’s is the kind of place you visit and then, afterwards, you begin to doubt its existence. Standing roughly between the Fly in the Loaf and the Flute means it’s empty in the early evening. Standing opposite Bumper and down the road from the Magnet similarly condemn it later on. There’s just always somewhere more popular to go to.
Comprising of a tiny bar at the very back of a mammoth dancefloor, Dickie’s always stirs feelings of guilt in me, as if it’s my fault it’s so deserted. That’s not an exaggeration. The average number of revellers here can be counted on the fingers of Captain Hook. Although being the kind of place that would attract the scummier end of the social spectrum, it’s decent enough for a quiet pint early on, unless you get freaked out by being the only person in a bar, that is.