The Berkeley
This drinking house of the Wetherspoons variety shines a beacon of blue light over the dim and sorry haze of Park Street. 'Come hither,' it speaks, nudging you away from all those horrible interesting, independent and exotic bars – beckoning you into its sticky embrace, made stickier by its hen night wenches and gangs of medics dressed as sexual poultry. Ahh, how Itchy longs to be in the stimulating company of a despicable crowd of sweating, pitcher guzzling, vile inbreds. Do look out for the drinks deals – it may make your experience a little bit easier.



