The Shakespeares Head is like the town hall of the city of the damned where dreams are alcohol and happiness is routine. A place that seems like nothing will ever change - ever.

The Venue
The Shakespeares Head is a vast expanse of a pub. Tables and chairs are lined in rows from front to back, covered in gaudy menus, flashing pound signs and bargains. The darkness here is more than metaphysical. The lights are so dim that it could only be compared to leaving a cinema after a matinee - its reeling and makes you ponder whether it was night or day when you entered. It's surprising that the pub isn't filled with more of those down on their luck looking for warmth; the labyrinthine layout is that large.

The worst thing about the pub is its pretense at tradition. It uses all the more obvious interior tricks to garner a ye olde appeal but its attempts are an insult to the genuine brass and boards pubs of the capital. With its long bar, it will never have any trouble serving the masses and as an aside, the staff are very friendly with a pluckiness that is probably vital to survive there.

The Atmosphere
It's hard to relax in The Shakespeares head. The crowd is a mixture of exchange students, tourists and people that appear to have spent their whole lives there. It feels uneasy and the only sounds that you hear are the voices that float across the room, punctured every so often by a shout from one of the undesirables attracted by the cheap booze. The majority of the patrons are either very old or seemingly too young and this classic Wetherspoons demographic makes the whole pub feel uncomfortable. There isn’t too much to say about it because it really just leaves you a little numb.

The Food
At Wetherspoons it's all about the clubs and the Shakespeares Head is no exception. There's Tuesday's grill club, The Thursday curry club and finally Sunday Roast club. The food is edible and cheap, which really seems to be all that the punters expect. The beer and burger deal will always pull in the students and it's really becoming an institution - almost a right of passage for the youthful drinker. In a Wetherspoons, with five pounds in your pocket you can always be well fed and watered.

The Drink
Deals galore. The chain is the supermarket of the pub world and flexes its financial muscle by offering the kinds of prices that the independents simply couldn't. It's fairly vulgar but to a certain crowd, very appealing. Ales such as Pedigree and John Smiths are about £2.30 a pint and the deals on the lagers are numerous. Carling, Kronenbourg and Stella are all cheaper than the average pub. The range of spirits covers the walls behind the bar and, predictably, the deals are there. Wetherspoons pubs really should be plastered with the drink responsibly message, as the state of some of the patrons come the end of the night is not a pretty sight.

The Last Word
Size is the only obvious attraction of this particular Wetherspoons, so if you're out with a group of say, one or two hundred, head on down.

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