Despite its name there’s not an inch of real-ale to be had in this underground pub that time forgot.

The Venue
The Yard Of Ale is a rabbit hole of a hidden underground bar in the centre of the city. The entrance is only as big as its double doors and you go down the mirror-lined stairs and enter a bar which could be out of an episode of Life On Mars. There’s Liebfraumilsch on the wine list, the patterned settees clash terribly with the carpet and the background music is from Freda Payne who's bemoaning the fact that all she's been left with is a ‘Band Of Gold’.

Despite its titchy entrance it’s fairly spacious inside, although the white ceiling is low. The spindly wooden pillars look like original features but you just pray they’re not actually supporting anything. There are beams in the ceiling too, as well as small round cast-iron tables, exposed brickwork and strings of flashing fairy lights. There are screens on the walls so you don’t miss a minute of whatever action you were in danger of missing a minute of. The music’s not loud which, given what's playing, is a blessing.

The People
It’s a mix of regular drinkers, townies, footie fans with stripy T-shirts and cropped hair, single blokes reading the newspaper and the odd (both meanings) couple here and there. Yard Of Ale gets busy during the evenings and given it's weeny proportions it can feel crowded.

The Food and Drink
The beers on tap encompass Pedigree, Bank’s, Carling, Foster’s and Kronenbourg. Exactly. Despite its name there’s not even a quarter of a yard of real-ale on offer. They do wines of the cheap and cheerful variety, i.e. Hardy’s and that German rave from the grave, Liebfraumilsch. Food for the hungry includes soup for £1.95, southern fried chicken burger for £4.45 or an all-day breakfast for £2.49, but it’s not the most obvious place you’d come for something to eat.

The Last Word
A retro bar that isn't trying to be retro, you could walk past the Yard Of Ale without realising the strange joys it hosts below. If you do, sit and sip old-fashioned 'fraumilsch and remember the days of the Brummie bags, Brut 45 and stack heels.