The Wheatsheaf

This is a surprisingly simple pub for our famous little Northern Quarter. Tucked right away in the backstreets, it’s far from remarkable but its bar staff are as friendly as you can get and ensure your every whim is met. Unless your whim is something as daft as a pink unicorn, I don’t think they’ll allow you that.
It’s another ‘Northern-​Quarter-​Antidote’ bar like The Hare and Hounds, as in you’re far more likely to find an old man supping a bitter than some poncey stringbean with a goatee called Farquar having come straight from his ‘movement’ class. You’ll find cask ales and a pool table, and apparently it’s haunted. There are tales of the Wheatsheaf’s gloriousness in an appreciation group on Facebook, in which a member tells of an anecdote where a punter asked to buy her plastic bag for the purpose of shoplifting.
Well, if that’s not character I don’t know what is.