I was taken to the Hoxton Pony as the final destination of a birthday pub crawl and a part of me feels like it really was my final destination. All style and no substance (the bar staff wearing bright red braces over black shirts was the first giveaway) the Pony lacks in almost every department and delivers a negative in atmosphere, without which Russ Abbot is never going to muster up a ham shank over a place.
Despite being able to sneak back into the queue with the people I was out with after nipping off to get some cash out (TANGENT – Shoreditch is rubbish for cash machines. There’s plenty of them, but the majority of the cheeky mechanical cows charge for withdrawals) my first disappointment came within minutes of getting in. The bar. On top of the stupid braces thing there was also a complete lack of decent beer. No draught whatsoever and with a single + mixer likely to be a fiver I went for an unassuming bottle of Carling. Needless to say, it was three pounds and fifty pence worth of gash.
While I always end up having a good laugh when I’m out with friends, The Hoxton Pony’s dancefloor did its best to stop this. Bad music combined with neon flashings does not a good dance floor make. On top if all this, and to quote Flight of the Concords, “too many d*cks on the dance floor”.
The Hoxton Pony review: 2/5
