I was called in to see the editor this week so found myself at The Argus’s new home in Manchester Street.

The staff have really fallen on their feet. It’s perfectly placed in the city and just a stone’s throw from the beach.

Drunk with success from my excellent spying visit last week I thought I’d try a pub near the office.

I decided to avoid the Mucky Duck as there’s a saying about what you shouldn’t do on your own doorstep – maybe another time.

I happened upon Bar Broadway but it wasn’t open so that was no good.

Then I came to somewhere called the Plotting Parlour which was at least open.

I ventured in to the dimly lit interior and exchanged a few, brief words before departing again.

The man behind the bar asked me if I was on my own and I asked him if he served beer.

The response to the latter question was ‘no’ so I quickly turned around and left.

In desperation I scurried back to the High Street and climbed over some bins to reach The Ranelagh but this seemed to be closed for renovations.

So it was that for my second Brighton review I found myself in The Kings Arms – the home of the walking dead.

Stepping up to the bar I was served by a Gok Wan lookalike wearing a very apt Walking Dead T-shirt.

I asked for a pint of Sussex Best. It tasted absolutely appalling.

Seeing my screwed up face, a couple of locals with beards and caps took pity on me.

They told the barman that following a clean of the pipes he needed to pull a pint or two first.

Armed with this new information he pulled a tasty pint of the only beer available on tap.

Among the assorted collection of scrap furniture were a pair of dodgy red sofas in front of a TV screen.

Rafa Nadal was doing his thing but I’m not a great tennis fan and certainly didn’t fancy sitting on either sofa.

So I took a pew where I could observe the bar.

A woman with dyed red hair was perched on a barstool. She didn’t move for ages, not even to reach for her lager, and for a moment I genuinely thought she had died.

Then, the music changed to something with a banjo and she seemed to be jolted back to life.

At this point I briefly left the bar to visit the facilities and have to report the newly re-tiled gents is by far the best part of the pub – it’s clean, tidy and warm.

When I got back to the bar the woman’s daughter, wearing leopard print shoes that matched her bag, was screaming at someone on her phone.

I heard her bellow, “No, I want it right now”, before disappearing up the street.

At this point the average age dropped dramatically as three children walked in – a sign declares they’re officially welcome until 8pm.

I decided it was high time I dropped the average age still lower and, after wiping my feet on the doormat on my way out, stepped back into George Street.  

The Kings Arms, 56 George Street, Kemp Town, Brighton BN2 1RJ

Decor: ★★ (out of five)

A bit like a jumble sale with Morrisons bags on chairs

Drink: ★★

Sussex Best – once the pipe cleaner had gone, tasty enough

Price: ★★★

£3.30 isn’t bad

Atmosphere: ★ 

Not a lot of life

Staff: ★★ 

Barman was friendly


I saw no sign of any food on offer