Hallelujah – the deep and dirty south has arrived in Clapham and not a moment too soon. Let yourself be guided in by the bright lights and tie your horse up outside, ok your bike, but the black building is so western-looking you half expect John Wayne to come strolling out.

Inside there’s not a cowboy in sight, but there is an inviting bar, a lot of raw brickwork, exposed bulbs, high wooden tables and chairs and some leather banquettes for sinking into. We recommend sliding into the latter, because after you’ve done with the menu you’re going to need to recline (possibly with a book, look behind you); those ribs, BBQ chicken wings, burgers and Mississippi mud pie don’t go easy on your stomach.

Aside from the cocktails, tried and tested (tick), it is all about the beer trolley which will come rollin’ on over to your table with a beaming waitress (who’d put any air stewardess to shame) at its shiny, black helm. Choose from nine different beers and let your flight begin, BarChick’s date liked Gigi’s Farmhouse Ale the best.

Take your Sharpie along if you wanna join the scribbles on the table: “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well if one has not dined well. We love you Honky Tonk.” Nuff said.