Blob Review - Tribeca

Took a bit of a while for us to get round to visiting this place, in truth.

When we first got round to the idea of inspecting our rivals and seeing exactly why they weren't as good as us, we drew up a list of places to go to. After we had a decent list we asked around 'where shall we go next?' and initially thought we were being asked to try Becca. We looked all around town, from Lime Street to Church Street to no avail. Then we bladdered our BT Phonecard ringing direct enquiries going through every Becca they could find us. Eventually, one of our regulars from the Bombed Out Church was telling us about some place he wasn't allowed to have a burst up against any more and the penny dropped.

Then we turfed him out because a penny doesn't get you anything here. Since the Oranjeboom went off anyway. Then put the penny in the tips jar.

The first thing that hit us, before we even went to the place, was it's location. Whoever was responsible for building an alehouse that far out of town wants shooting. If you sit back and think about the big hitters in terms of local popularity – Us, The Penny Fartho, Tess Riley's, Coopers – we've all got something in common; we're near the train stations and bus stations. We've even heard that the fella who owns City Pets ha started to let people bevvy in there now as well. Smart move.

Anyway, we put a few buttys together and bought ourselves an all zone saveaway and set off, looking forward to a big day out.

They say every place has got its own smell and that you don't really know what it is yourself. That might be true, we're often told how much our place smells like a sock and we take that as a great compliment – what better to keep you warm of a cold winter night then a nice smelling sock? In Tribeca though, they seem to be oblivious to their own smell of LOADSA GARLY BREAD.

Upon entering we were immediately asked 'are you eating?' to which the response straight away came back 'i've got a bit of a snicker stuck in me teeth like, what's it to yer?' After a while though, it was explained that the question was because in Tribeca you sit in different places depending on whether you are eating or drinking. As a rule, we agree with that – hence why we let people sit on the bog with a scran and keep the bar for our drinkers.

In truth, we ended up completely ballooned after a bowl of olives came over, meaning we had to order about 50 Martinis to put them in. We like a bevvy as much as anyone but that's putting a bit too much pressure on your customers. Our motto is 'pour it and they will come. And if they don't keep it away for someone else tomorrow. Waste not want not.' Admittedly, it's not the shortest motto, as we found out when we tried to paint it on our staffs bare backs during the summer. However, staff in Tribeca won't have that problem, seen as though they walk around like complete scruffs in grey t-shirts. That's unacceptable for any bar. Especially when the jeans they wear them with aren't even boot cut. We could see the top of everyone's shoe when, in 2014 in this industry, it should be a toe at most. Honestly, how they're expected to pocket their wallets, nokia 3210s and Sony Walkmans on the ferry home, while looking like Bryan Ferry, is anybody's guess.

As for the food, some soft bastard folded our pizza over so we sent it back and asked for a refund. Some of the old favourites turned up on tap but it was scant consolation. Within an hour we were on the steps of the church with a few of the lads tucking into a Frosty Jacks. That, coupled with the realisation that we didn't have to scratch the dates on our zoneys mean we give the experience a generous rating of half a pizza out of 5 crisp buttys.