Bond's is one of the weirdest, most bizarre bars I've ever been to, and that's saying a lot, but I've been to plenty a biker bar with less crazy-looking clientele than Bond's.
Full of folks who, for the West Midlands, are surely on the cutting edge of some fashion trend somewhere (think Emo gone wrong, Goths trying to forget their age, and biker chicks without bikes), Bond's is a unique drinking experience no matter where you're from.
The beer is nice, lots of selections on tap, including Peeterman Artois, which I love, and San Miguel. The staff are pretty strange, mixing in well with the crowd, and shooting everyone surly, resentful looks as they disappear yet again into the backroom to apply more eyeliner, surely.
There was one very pleasant chap who served us who was dressed, mercifully, in a t-shirt and shorts, with normal-coloured, slightly tousled hair, and a ready smile, unlike his frowning colleagues.
The crowd is WEIRD, and yes, weird enough to be capitalised. I've never seen so many obese women in one place in my life. I felt like I was at a Weight Watcher's convention. No disrespect meant to the ladies, but it did mean that things got a little...crowded.
There were a ton of very, very unwell elderly folks dressed I can only presume in fancy dress, and looking very unhappy.
Then there was a cadre of normal, drunk, happy people, one of whom offered my husband and I a menage a trois. Did I say normal? Scratch that. Adventurous is what I meant. This crowd was jovial enough and friendly enough, but in general, the atmosphere was glowering and surreal.
I'd definitely love to go again, just for the kitsch "oh my god, I am in hell" surrealism of the place. It was like something out of a David Lynch film. And no, that's not a compliment. read more