Slap bang in the middle of Belgravia and beloved of the aristocracy, Plumbers Arms plays an integral part in the story of the infamous Lord Lucan.

The Venue
It is said that on the night of 7th November 1974, the bloodstained wife of Lord Lucan burst into the bar of the Plumbers Arms, crying “Help me, help me. He’s in the house. He’s murdered the Nanny!” The disappearance of Lord Lucan was one of the biggest mysteries of the day, and catapulted this pub to infamy.

As is to be expected, therefore, contemporaneous newspaper reports of Lucan’s disappearance and a clutch of other historical bric-a-brac adorn the wood panelled walls, giving this venue a timeless quality. The tattered and dark decor and furniture accented with check upholstery helps this pub to keep its olde day air.

The Atmosphere
Nowadays, Plumbers Arms is a busy lunchtime and after-work venue, serving the office workers of Victoria and Belgravia as well as a number of the area’s wealthy residents. The pub is especially popular on sunny days when the outdoor seating area acts as a sun-trap from which to watch the world and his Rolls Royce go by. The atmosphere is generally pleasant and friendly and, despite the large number of customers who often crowd outside, remarkably well-mannered.

The Food
An array of traditional food is available at Plumbers Arms from a seasonal menu, including favourites such as sausage and mash and fish and chips, complimented by a pie of the week and a number of other rotating dishes. All food is prepared fresh on the premises. Portions are large and, with the majority of main courses under ten pounds, very good value.

The Drink
Four real ales are on tap, including some more interesting draughts and a number of lagers, Guinness and cider. Best of all, prices are reasonable. A good array of spirits, and a decent wine list, including a clutch of good Champagnes (a concession to the area, no doubt) complete the offering.

The Last Word
Don’t be put off by its grizzly history; the Plumbers Arms is a decent retreat if you find yourself in Belgravia when you could just murder a pint.

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