The Crocodile

Unless its a sumptuous rural garden out the back, I’ve found that pubs very rarely get the whole ‘outside seating area’ right. You’re either left sat directly on the pavement getting in the way of pedestrians or you’re shoved into some dingy little backyard getting in the way of delivery men.
The Crocodile gets it right. Here you can sit in the passageway separating one side from the other, looking out through the ornate gates at the street beyond and not have to worry that any second a lorry rattling with kegs is going to start reversing into you.
Inside, the pub is filled with friendly chaps and chapesses getting their karaōke on. This is normally the kind of thing that winds me up, but the fact I can escape back outside improves it endlessly.

Part of what makes up the old man pub crawl of Mad Monday, The Crocodile is home to the same sort of crowd that you will find in The Beehive and Coopers. Old men singing.
I used to come here regularly on a Sunday night because some friends loved the karaōke here — and judging from the crowds so do a lot of scousers. It’s a funny place where people aren’t afraid to join in your conversation, heckle your singing or have a handy quip ready. Of course being so close to the strippers, The Croc can also attract an unsavoury element through its doors but really its part of what adds to the charm and grittiness of this place like similar old school pubs in this part of the city centre.
Across its small patio, with TV so smokers don’t have to miss out on any important match action, is the Baby Croc which has its own, slightly more laid back feel.
It’s still an old fellas boozer but being tucked away in a backstreet amongst the offices of the city centre, The Croc has the sensation of being a hidden drinking den, good for those spontaneous all day sessions.