The Flying Scotsman

Got off the train at Kings X and wanted a pub to pop in to watch the rugby with my brother before continuing on with the rest of my journey. This seemed to be the nearest. Windows boarded up (for reasons, as we soon found out) and place looked seedy. A sign upon entering informed us that it is against the law to deal drugs on the premises, further contributing to this effect. Bar at the front was a bit crowded, and the place stank to be honest. There was a small telly with the rugby on. Looking to the side/​back room it looked to be full of cheering and smiling men so it was assumed there must be a bigger telly there. Walked back to see a dimly lit stage with a poor girl in slutty clothes writhing on the ground with one breast exposed and another about to be. A half-​starved looking Eastern European girl walked up to me and asked me to put a pound in a jar. I left. That places like this still exist disgusts me and says a lot about the character of the people who go there.
I’m reminded of a C S Lewis quote: «You can get a large audience together for a strip-​tease act – that is, to watch a girl undress on the stage. Now suppose you came to a country where you could fill a theatre by simply bringing a covered plate on to the stage and then slowly lifting the cover so as to let every one see, just before the lights went out, that it contained a mutton chop or a bit of bacon, would you not think that in that country something had gone wrong with the appetite for food?»
This place is disgusting inside and out. It is degrading to women, encourages a debased approach to sex and the appropriate expression of human sexuality, and I would think is also damaging to the area’s improving reputation. The only people I feel for are the girls. What desperation in life has forced them to do this to make a living?

You gotta rate a place on the basis of what it is, right? I mean, you don’t go to Pizza Hut and complain they don’t have burgers and you don’t go to your local kebab shop and complain that the quality of the meat is not as good as you’d get at GBK. Right?
This is old worlde King’s Cross before the muppets and the money and the regeneration took over. I’m not asking for a preservation of whores leaning on lamp posts, addicts slumped against the pole at Platform Three and four beggars on each street corner. However, this place is as discreet as it could be. They ain’t touting out the front, you wouldn’t know it was there unless you went looking for it.
It is good for what it is. Dark dingey, average Guinness, scrawny hard faced strippers out the back, a pint glass going around for gold coins.
Now that’s not for everyone, and for those its not it is not compulsory to go there. Those who want it gone are not about ‘protecting their children’ or unishgtliness, they are about their house prices. Like people who buy a house on the fence at LHR and complain about the planes.
But they needn’t worry. It looks like it’ll be gone this year so they can have their new Pizza Express, blonde wood wine bar or other cookie cutter rubbish and look like every other high street. You people make me sick.

Pour choper deux bières, deux fesses, deux seins, voila l’endroit le plus simple

People don’t go here for the beer let’s get that striaght.
A girl/​woman/​lady comes around the bar with an empty pint glass, men put money in it, when the girl/​woman/​lady is satisfied she gets on stage and dances to music whilst taking off her clothes.