The Three Goat’s Heads is the kind of pub that you only get in city centres. First impressions are that it is a joyless, characterless pub, staffed by disinterested graduate students and other ingrates, with bizarrely obscure (but not in a good way) range of beers.
It’s a poky little venue on two floors, right next to the Union’s St Michael’s Street entrance, but it isn’t pokey in a charming way. The decor is unpleasant and the music is usually the esoteric taste of whoever is behind the bar (get there on a Friday afternoon for driller bass and techno).
Why bother going then? George Street and its environs are riddled with similar pointless boozers. But it does have several redeeming features that saw it rocket from, “F**king awful, worse than the Cock and Camel,” to a coveted, “Ten pints out of ten!” rating during one night on the sauce.
First, it’s tiny and there are two bars, so getting served takes about fifteen seconds. Second, it’s miraculously free of twats. With it being so close to some of Oxford’s worst pubs and, more worryingly, the Union, we feared a particularly noxious clientele, but we were greeted by cheery locals and inoffensive students.
And crucially, they sell Ayingerbrau Pils, aka Magic Beer. Magic Beer is called Magic Beer because it has magical powers. Nominally it’s a strong pilsner, but we started to feel strangely pissed after the first pint. We were headed for a party at the naval mess, and after three pints we were sufficiently armed to make one hell of a mess. Rumours that people have drunk over five pints of this stuff are nothing short of lies.
“That’s got some funky shit in it,” said Pat, swearing needlessly. “It’s petrol and mescaline,” explained Texas.
Pat T Cake and The Boy Texas
ARCHIVE: 3rd Week TT 2003
Three Goats Heads
