Back in March there was an entertaining, if slanted, article about micropubs in the Sunday Times. I promised to write about it as the tight bastards won't let you see it online.
In a remarkable display of slackness it's only now, four months later, that I'm finally getting round to it. Good job I'm not in the British Guild of Beer Writers or I'd be up before the committee.
Reading about micropubs was a sheer delight. Being mainly into cask beer and traditional pubs I often feel like an old git compared to the hip young neophiles of the blogosphere. But the world of micropubs is so retro it makes me feel like I'm positively at the contemporary cutting edge.
It starts with Martyn Hillier and The Butchers Arms, where the whole micropub thing started. No alcopops, TV, music or food (except for three flavours of crisps) here, but four real ales, often from local microbreweries.
Sounds great doesn't it?
"I used to do red and white wine but it confused the ladies," Hillier says. "They'd start asking what red wine it was, and I'm not here to sell wine. So now it's just white wine. Simpler that way."
That bit got me raising an eyebrow.
The article moves on to The Just Reproach in Deal, where anyone who's mobile phone rings is fined £1, and even more if they actually answer it. The letters 'NFL' are stenciled on a window near the door - it stands for "No f****** lager"
None of that ecumenical nonsense here. Doesn't it warm the cockles of your heart?
The Just Beer in Newark takes things even further, refusing to sell lemonade as it's "the slippery slope to shandy."
I'd love to visit a micropub, all the ones mentioned look like they'd be a great place for a night out. But I'm not sure I'd want one as a local, they do look a bit pokey.