The Turf is synonymous with matriculation, mods, finals and student scum. Its mistreatment by absurdly-dressed, braying idiots, commences with the ceremony that makes one member of the University, and ends with exhausted post-finals debauchery. But that’s the price you pay for letting people bring their own champagne and flour onto the premises. Do people actually visit the Turf at any other time? Does it even exist when there aren’t finals? Perhaps some consider it their local and spend many happy evenings drinking the (admittedly excellent) beer. I’d be surprised though. In spite of being genuinely old, the Turf somehow manages to have all the character of a branch of McDonalds. Taking advantage of the many tourists who still find the place, purchasing a drink requires a second mortgage. The toilets are outside, which is annoying until the stench of piss makes you thankful for the fresh air on exiting. The food is over-priced at best and the beer gardens have far too many picnic tables, making them feel like prison cafeterias. Moving past the front bar, which overcrowding will inevitably necessitate, forces you to doubt the reputation The Turf has as being great English pub. It’s awful. After the landlord saw an early draft of this article, Pat was dragged in front of his college Dean to explain himself. The landlord had protested that the Turf goes out of its way to be friendly to students. Perhaps he had a point. To determine this Pat and Texas went for few pints on a Saturday afternoon. “This place is full of students and twats”, commented Pat over an appallingly priced glass of ice with lemonade mixer. Perhaps that’s the Turf ’s problem. It’s too friendly to students, but not in the joyfully stupid manner of a Scream pub. It’s simply old, cramped, and the service is fucking terrible.