I need to make a confession.

Before I do anything else I must come clean and admit something terrible – I’ve been sober for six days. It’s not my fault, it is entirely down to Mrs PubSpy.

She caught me at a weak moment and before I knew it I’d agreed to support her in some damned fool Stoptober idea, though I realise the campaign is actually to give up smoking.

Anyway, this was incredibly damaging to me on the first day of the quest, last Sunday, as I went on a Saturday mission to consume a month’s alcohol intake in one day.

But since midnight on Saturday not a drop has passed my lips.

I handed in my cards to the editor first thing on Monday morning but he refused to accept them.

Apparently he’s had some good feedback to the column and says it must continue.

So, your humble PubSpy will continue to report on all the area’s best and worst pubs despite taking the pledge.

This week’s teetotal visit took in The Nevill on a wet and windy miserable early evening. Now I know I’m on the wagon and it might affect my judgement a little, but nothing was going to take the edge off an early impression of this one.

This must be the most boring, pub in Brighton.

I’m not saying it’s downright awful as there are inhospitable holes worse than this one. But, no matter how bad they are, they can’t compete on the blandness scale.

Seriously, returning to the wind and rain would have been preferable.

The first thing the barmaid said was that she was tired and didn’t want to be working.

She took just enough time to serve me a lime and soda (there clearly wasn’t enough time to stir it) before she returned to a conversation with the only other people in at the bar.

It turns out they were also bored bar staff, too tired to work but with just enough energy to loll across the bar.

Then another zombie-like staff member joined his crew announcing he had only come in for his wages and they’d better be here. There were a few hasty phone calls and luckily the cash was located.

The topic of the day shifted from their pay packets to the tabs they had amassed and had to pay off. Imogen had forgotten £32 on someone’s tab but I lost interest after this.

The place feels a bit like a large corridor and I have to assume all the locals prop themselves up on the stools along the bar.

Miraculously there is a happy hour advertised, which runs from Monday to Friday between 4pm and 6pm – if only I’d been in earlier I’d have missed the miserable hour which clearly follows it. From my bar stool I could see the restaurant area in darkness behind a hefty glass wall. I assume it gets used at some point, but there was no sign of food action while I was in.

They reckon there’s a fizzy Friday when you can get two glasses of prosecco for £6.50 – is that when this one bursts into life?

The liveliest thing is the electronic games machines which blink brightly through the gloom.

I did notice a step back in time with a table football machine, so perhaps that peps things up a bit.

This is a heck of a lump of a place and there’s a wide open, if deserted, car park out the front too so it must be busy at some point.

With the number of rooms available – an empty restaurant, a locked up, unused bar on the right-hand side and another side room with furniture stacked up – I have to assume it does a roaring trade with events, otherwise I don’t know it could support so many miserable staff.

Even the music selection on the radio drained the mood to a very damp squib.

I felt something had to liven up, so I ordered a passionfruit J2O and found a straw to stir it.

The flavour of my drink might have changed, but that was about it.

Even the electronic pictures of the place, which change automatically on the front of the till display, portray the pub as empty and drab – I suggest they add a few pictures with something lively or at least alive.

If it wasn’t raining I’d have checked out the decent sized garden at the back, complete with a gazebo – another sign they must cater for events at some point.

The pub advertises itself as having award-winning roasts – maybe this drags the punters in.

The most interesting thing about this pub is the fact it has a carpet with its name and coat of arms on it.

I honestly couldn’t decide whether it was the atmosphere, the rain, the music or the building which made this the most depressing experience I’ve had in a Brighton and Hove pub.