Living up to its name

With movies, there's an unspoken rule that you should never have a name that gives critics free ammunition; the owners of this latest gastropub should have taken note.

The place looks lovely, with its shiny, dark wood tables and pleasant pseudo-Victorian gloom, but despite a reasonable, if not excessive, number of diners the first information the (solitary, sweet but overworked) waitress relayed was that orders would take 45 minutes.

The Sunday lunch menu was hardly complex - no starters, six mains, which were mostly of the roast beef with trimmings variety, three desserts - and starving Soho-ites were certainly not battering the door down. So why the delay? Nor was the lady exaggerating: 55 minutes later my roast goose turned up, more richly festooned with trimmings than the most festive Christmas tree.

The potatoes were crispy and the stuffing pleasant, but the sausage wrapped in bacon was bland and the bird itself overdone. My friend's sausages (with mash) were pink but tasty, but at £8.50 a couple of peas wouldn't have gone amiss.

Granted, a chocolate tart with Grand Marnier ice cream was delectably rich with pastry casing, but it was more a consolation than grande finale.

A hefty 12.5 per cent service was added to the bill, which - with a couple of glasses each of mediocre wine - came to £45. Even its status as a pleasant slobbing venue is compromised by Sunday closing at the odd hour of 4.30pm. So, neither restaurant nor pub, and endurance definitely required.