Realisation dawns

From the beginning of this month, new government regulations prevent restaurants and fast food outlets from providing unlimited refills of drinks deemed to be high in sugar. This includes not just fizzy soft drinks, but items such as hot chocolate in Wetherspoon’s. This has caused several commentators such as Andrew Lilico here to suddenly wake up and, as it were, smell the coffee.

Is this true? It's now illegal to sell bottomless portions of Coke? https://t.co/GdbtNa9DRK

— Andrew Lilico (@andrew_lilico) October 3, 2025

I have to say that free refills isn’t something that particular concerns me personally. It’s a relative recent innovation anyway, and in general one soft drink is enough. Overall, I doubt whether the take-up is very great, but it something that appears generous and creates a positive impression. However, prohibiting this kind offer seems to have a struck a chord with a number of commentators who would not normally pay much attention to issues of this kind.

This illustrates how it often takes something that affects them personally to bring home to people the existence of a wider trend. For example, widespread closures of pubs may not have really registered with someone until one that they happen to like visiting shuts down. Only then do they begin to notice a pattern rather than an isolated instance.

Over the past fifteen or twenty years, we have seen a whole raft of new lifestyle restrictions brought in, many of which have been chronicled on this blog. Taken in isolation, they may not add up to very much, which is why they might have gone unnoticed, but as a whole they represent a significant change to the operation of the food and drink market.

In food, we have seen reductions in pack sizes, such as the phasing out of XL chocolate bars, restrictions on displays in supermarkets, attempts to reformulate dishes to reduce fat, salt and sugar content, the “sugar tax” on soft drinks, these curbs on refills and, from next January, sweeping restrictions on advertising and promotion of a huge range of everyday food items.

In the sphere of alcohol, we have seen producers “encouraged” to reduce strengths to “take alcohol units out of the market”, the recent duty changes which have made it financially attractive to reduce huge swathes of the beer market to 3.4% ABV and, in Scotland and Wales, minimum unit pricing and bans on multibuy offers. From the perspective of when I began this blog, it is perhaps surprising that much of the attention of public health has been diverted from alcohol to food, but there is sure to be more to come, especially in the area of advertising and promotions.

While the latest measures are being implemented under Labour, they were planned by the Conservatives, and indeed the Conservatives were power for most of the period under review. This policy area at least has been a cross-party initiative.

The government themselves have admitted that the effect of these measures will be trivial, amounting at most to a handful of calories removed from the average diet. So it is hard to see why the restrictions are justified, except to placate shrill pressure groups demanding that “Something Must be Done!” And it seems that some people derive a perverse pleasure from dictating how others live their lives. It’s also profoundly patronising. Adults are being treated not as intelligent, responsible individuals in control of their own lives, but as weak-willed, gullible dupes who have to be protected from themselves.

The whole thing perfectly exemplifies this famous quotation from C. S. Lewis:

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be "cured" against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals.”

And don’t imagine for a minute that this is the end-point, because there’s still a long way further to go.

Out of sight, out of mind

The Morning Advertiser reports on research carried out on behalf of Ossett Brewery showing that cask suffers from a visibility problem in the pub. Apparently a mere 10% of drinkers could recall seeing the available cask beers, and only 19% can identify cask from the signature handpull. “Handpulls often sit too low or are hidden, while lager and craft keg dominate at eye level.”

There’s a certain amount of truth in this. Pumpclips aren’t illuminated, and are sometimes fussily designed and difficult to read. Plus they are located at a lower level than the tall fonts and T-bar dispensers that often dominate bars, so don’t stand out. While it often used to be the case that the bank of handpumps dominated the centre of the bar, I can think of two local examples where recent refurbishments have led to them being moved to a less prominent location.

However, I’d expect that the majority of beer drinkers in a pub are at least aware of the presence of handpumps on the bar, even if it’s not their preferred drink. The report says that 49% of drinkers “are not really sure what cask is”, but they probably have an approximate idea, even if it’s just perceived as something warm, flat and old-fashioned that isn’t for them.

In the early days of CAMRA, a substantial proportion of cask beer in the North and Midlands, maybe getting on for a half, was dispensed through various form of electric pumps that were difficult to distinguish from keg or tank beer taps. Most drinkers simply referred to “Mild” or “Bitter” rather than specifically identifying the beer as “real ale”. This obviously posed a problem in making it difficult to determine which beer was real and which wasn’t, especially for the casual customer, and so over the years the use of handpumps was encouraged as providing a clear and unmistakeable symbol of real ale. By the turn of the century, electric cask beer dispense had largely disappeared, and it now lingers on in only a tiny handful of pubs.

However, this is a double-edged sword. What allows you to clearly identify something also allows people to instantly dismiss it as something not for them. Many drinkers will see a beer on a handpump and immediately reject it out of hand. It’s something “other” than the general run of beers on keg taps.

A few years ago, I reported on an experiment by Sharp’s Brewery to get over this issue by dispensing cask Doom Bar through bar mountings of the same form as keg taps, although clearly identifying it as “Cask” on the cowl, so nobody is being deceived. There is no technical issue with doing this, and indeed free-flow electric dispense of cask beers was once commonplace. The argument in favour is that it does not confine cask to a kind of psychological ghetto, but on the other hand it could be seen as being somewhat ashamed of cask and trying to pass it off, at least at a subliminal level, as being like keg. In any case, nothing much ever seems to have come of it, and I never encountered it in action in a pub.

The report suggests that drinkers need more education about what cask, but in reality if you feel that customers need to be educated about your product you’ve lost the battle. People might do research and consult brochures if they’re buying a consumer durable that will last for years, but for an ephemeral product consumed at point of sale and costing a few pounds they will largely look to advertising, social cues and the simple fact of what is placed before them. And, while surveys show people want locally-brewed beer (who would say they didn’t?), revealed preference tends to show that in real-world purchasing decisions this isn’t a high priority.

While cask may to some extent suffer from a low profile in pubs, in practice the main reasons deterring people from choosing it are that it is too often offered in the form of obscure brands that they have never heard of, and there is a small but certainly non-negligible chance of getting one that is seriously sub-standard, especially in the general run of pubs as opposed to specialist outlets. I don’t really think brightly-coloured handpumps and mounting pumpclips higher is going to make that much difference.

Cask continues to enjoy a loyal following amongst enthusiasts, and is in no danger of disappearing entirely. However, enthusiasts tend to value a wide choice and positively welcome unfamiliar beers, while often regarding the possibility of getting the occasional sub-standard as an occupational hazard. This goes directly against what is needed to develop it in more generalist pubs.

There has to be a laser-like focus on quality at the point of dispense and a ruthless attack on over-ranging, which is too often meekly accepted as the price that has to be paid for providing “a good range of beers”. And, to be effective, promotion needs to focus on individual, recognisable brands, not on cask as a generic category.

A journey into Middle England – Part 2

Having left the Old Swan, a short walk back west towards the town centre of Atherstone brought us to the Hat & Beaver, its plain frontage brightly illuminated in the Autumn sunshine. While the name may seem whimsical, it reflects Atherstone’s long heritage of the hatting industry. Apparently at one time in the past it produced more hats than Luton, and was responsible for making Tommy Cooper’s fezzes. We had been warned about the possibility of encountering over-familiar dogs in this pub, but today none were in evidence, although there was a dog bowl in one corner. Atherstone seems to be a good place for dog-loving pubgoers, with several pubs either having dogs inside, or signs proclaiming they were “Dog Friendly”. In keeping with the exterior, the interior is fairly plain, with a public bar with a tiled floor at the front, an intermediate area with an alcove of seating at a higher level, and a lounge section with a wall bench at the rear.

The only cask ale was Bass, at a bargain price of £3.50 a pint, where most of the beer in the town was between £4.20 and £4.50. The pub had recently received a delivery of the new Bass merchandise, including pumpclips, bar runners, beermats and glasses with the legend “Trademark No. 1” on the rear, as shown in the photo above. As in the two earlier pubs with Bass, while you would have been happy to drink it all night, it didn’t quite scale the heights that it can be capable of. A nice touch was that the barman turned down the music in the area where we were sitting to help us hear our conversation, although in fact it was pretty tasteful anyway. As you might expect in a pub of this type, the racing was showing on the TV with the sound off.

We continued further west along Long Street back into the town centre. While you would not describe Atherstone as an upmarket place, there were relatively few boarded-up premises and a good number of independent shops, suggesting it isn’t doing too badly. Turning right, we headed up to the spacious Market Place, which gently slops uphill to the handsome St Mary’s Church with its distinctive octagonal tower. On this are two pubs that make rather more concessions to modern beer trends than most of the others in the town, and which appear to take turns to be included in the Good Beer Guide.

The first, on the right, was the Market Tavern Tap, which presumably was a long-established pub originally just called the Market Tavern. The door on the right leads into a passageway down the side giving access to a comfortable front lounge and a smaller snug at the rear. The lounge was by some way the busiest pub room of the day so far, and appeared to be a popular spot for the gentlefolk of Atherstone – and their dogs – to enjoy a teatime pint. There was a fire burning in the grate even though it was quite a warm afternoon. There were seven cask beers available, including Iron Pier Stout, Brew York Duality, Big Dipper Bitter and Proper Job.

Across the Market Place is the Angel Ale House, which again was presumably once just called the Angel. This also is a double-fronted pub, this time mco with the door at the extreme right. A few steps down give access to a spacious front bar with a tiled floor. There were a good number of customers, although not quite as many as the previous pub. This one was in the 2025 GBG, but has been replaced by the Market Tavern Tap for 2026. There were five cask beers on the bar, including Oakham Citra, Theakston Peculier IPA and Leatherbritches Mad Ruby and Hairy Helmet.

Numbers were thinning out now, but having spotted a handpump in the Wheatsheaf earlier on, two of us decided to call in on the way back to the station. This is a much plainer and more down-to-earth pub than the previous two, with a public bar area at the front, a couple of alcoves of seating in the middle, and a raised area with a pool table to the rear. The clientele were noticeably younger than any of the earlier pubs, but maybe this was just a function of the time having moved on from afternoon to early evening. On the bar were two handpumps, once with a reversed pumpclip for Greene King Yardbird, and the other serving Genevieve, a collaboration between Greene King and Thornbridge, which was actually pretty decent.

From here it was only a short walk back to the station, with the ultra-low underbridge having to be negotiated to reach the northbound platform. My journey back involved changing at Crewe rather than Stafford. The London North Western train on the first leg ran to time, but unfortunately the West Coast one for the final stretch was delayed 25 minutes, meaning that I did not get back to Stockport until just after 9 pm.

While Atherstone may not include any world classics of the pub world, it is an interesting and characterful town in its own right, and we were able to visit all of the cask-serving pubs in the town centre; there are three or four more that only have keg beers. This made for a very enjoyable day out and gives the opportunity to get a feel for what makes a place tick that you don’t get by just cherry-picking one or two from a beer guide. The front room of the Market Tavern Tap was probably my favourite pub space of the day, but I would also be more than happy to spend time in the Maid of the Mill and the Old Swan, and the Hat & Beaver is certainly not lacking in character. The only pub I wouldn’t really be too concerned about returning to was the Wheatsheaf.

See here for Part 1.