Shakespeare and I have a lot in common, he was English, he hung out in Stratford as a kid, he couldn’t grow a fully connected beard, he had a bit of a thing for Anne Hathaway and he wrote with a quill, all things that I have done and continue to do, the Beard and quill are both particularly frustrating.

Anyway it’s because of these things that I find myself strangely attached to the Shakespeare pub on Devonshire Street, in fact it was the first pub I went to in Surry Hills when I arrived in Australia, two unconnected beard years ago.

Understandably I was a bit concerned when The Shakey was crowned the ‘Best Pub in Sydney’ by Time Out. The world is full of examples where a little fame and praise can go to your head with devastating consequences, Winehouse, Lohan, Foveaux, Rooney, Gibson, to name a few, life is littered with the big headed swines.

So it was with great intrepidation that I made the long walk up Devonshire Street from the office on Thursday to see what had become of The Shakespeare since this honour was bestowed upon it

I was delighted to find that it’s exactly the same. The man with a parrot on his shoulder was out the front, the bar staff were still delightfully sombre, the chef was frighteningly protective of the food (just in case you’re in the habit of nicking grub) and the beer was still top draw, under $5 for a schooner of delicious Carlton, you just can’t fault it.

In fact it was just too damn good to leave, which is why today I’m slouching rather dustily at my corner desk.

Verdict: Four out of five gnomes…

The Pub Shakespeare

The Man Shakespeare (see no beard joining, and also notice the awkward looking earring as well, how weird i did not know that)