Some people suffer for their art. I go to Ilford.

I R I S H P U B o f t h e W E E K 9 0 2 ⚡️☘️📍Ilford, the El Paso of Essex, the badlands on the fringes of Zone 3 civility is where we find Irish pub no 847; Jono’s. Jono’s, were it to be found in a South Clare, would be an idylic spot; wild flowers bloom amid its green and gold facade. In reality , its on Ilford High road, flanked by a Paddy Power, countless Lahori BBQs and a Dracula themed Off Licence. Course, round here is Hammers territory , so people actually support West Ham .

The pub itself is very Hibernian, having what appears to be a thatched cottage inside the pub, an inceptionesque pub within a pub whereupon you could be mistaken for thinking you’re in a dreamworld, until a elderly hammer shouts come on you cunnnnnnnnntss at the tele. I wanted to get more photos, but the pub had a sign saying no taking photos or videos with people in them, and it was the kind of place where you’d want to abide by the rules.. The pint was good in a totally unfancy way , and went down a treat.

Meeting with my good friend Adam Cowler, the finest muso anthologist and expert on independent popular music of the current century. Check him out As we settled into pints, amid the cacophony, a lone voice, so melifulous in its ennunciation caught my ears . The unmistakable sound of a Kerryman , a proper Kerry accent, literally and I do not tell a word of a lie, talking to a man about a dog. Or a dagg .if you close your eyes, Jono’s could easily be a small town rural Irish pub, albeit more diverse in its clientele. Just round the corner, down an alley is the grimmest looking O ‘Neills I’ve ever seen, and that is saying something. So if you are an East Boy in a dead end world, choose Jono’s!