Four of the six punters were wearing flat caps, but I was still offered a knock off Armani top before I could even get to the bar to order a pint.

The barmaid at the Richard Cobden Irish pub instructed the wannabe salesman to ‘do one’ and take his dodgy looking sportswear with him – to be fair, he was holding the tracksuit far too close to the gas fire.

But, having weaved my way between the dog poo just feet from the door and narrowly missed being run down by two lunatic cyclists on the pavement, I was quite glad to get into this boozer on Luton Road in Chatham.

Having ushered the salesman out, she returned to the bar and, as John Smiths was the only beer on tap, I decided to join the majority of cap wearers and ordered a Guinness – well, when in Rome…

The only person not drinking the Black Stuff was ‘enjoying’ a pint of Fosters.

As I took a seat an almost unintelligible Scots guy at the end of the bar began unpacking a Pandora bag and, for a minute, I thought I was about to be offered some jewellery on the cheap.

It turns out he was just getting the opinion of our hostess on what he’d bought his wife for Christmas.

In between complimenting his gift choice she munched her way through a meal deal – ham sarnies, cheese and onion crisps and a bottle of Coke.

It’s probably fair to describe this as the slightly rougher end of town, but the RC Irish Pub felt like a bit of a haven away from the mayhem outside.

Albeit a haven bedecked in festive frippery from 20 years ago, seriously I’ve never seen so much tinsel.

Other great touches which took me back in time were: a meat raffle with ‘Three meatalicious prizes’; punters singing along to Some Girls by Racy; one of those gas fires which takes a large bottle at the back; a visiting seafood lady who comes in at 2pm on a Sunday with eels, prawns, crayfish and more.

Another historic moment, probably around the 1980 mark, occurred when Supertramp’s Dreamer started playing just as a Fred Dibnah look-a-like walked into the pub complaining about a lack of taxis in Chatham.

Fred, real name Phil I think, was another Guinness drinker and, of course, another flat cap devotee.

There is a jukebox, an old-style fruit machine, a decent dartboard and several TV screens, one of which, positioned over Seamus’ head, was showing racing (on silent) from sunny Deauville in Normandy.

Unlucky for some, it’s 13 steps down a steep staircase to get to the gents and the temperature drops by a degree every step you take.

It’s absolutely flipping freezing once you reach the basement, where you’ll find a notice informing you that if you’re found taking drugs you’ll be asked to leave and barred. Now, I’m no expert, but I can’t imagine anyone braving the freezing cold down here long enough to indulge in illicit substances.

Whilst they were chilly beyond belief, particularly in comparison to the warmth of the bar, the toilets have been renovated and were well cared for and freshly presented.

Back above stairs, in temperatures back above zero, chat ranged from horse favourites, to the New Year disco, to questioning the whereabouts of regular Curly and why he hadn’t been in?

Just as he was mentioned in walked the aforementioned, missing Curly for a pint of Fosters top.

With Curly sat at the bar and Gabriel joining Seamus under the telly we had a full team of regulars in attendance and the Craic began to flow.

This is about as traditional an Irish pub as you’ll find, certainly in this part of Chatham, and in line with tradition visitors are drawn into conversations and encouraged to be involved.

Sure, this pub’s old fashioned and everything is fairly basic, but that’s also the joy of places like this and there’s much to be valued.

I wish you all a fantastic Christmas and an even better New Year

Richard Cobden, 180A Luton Road, Chatham ME4 5BP

Decor: Stacks of tinsel, plenty of interesting items from days gone by and a boozer which looks exactly as you’d expect. You’ve got to appreciate any pub with a photo of George Best on the wall. ***

Drink: The vast majority were on the Guinness and, this being an Irish pub, it would have been rude not to join them – it was a decent example. The only other tipple for regulars was Fosters (which I have to draw the line at) so I went for a safe Stella. **

Price: I’m not sure how they stack up locally but I reckon £4.20 for a decent pint of Guinness was pretty good and, to be fair, you’d normally pay more than £4 for a Stella. ****

Staff: First she had to throw out a hawker, then she had to pour some great pints of Guinness, by the end she was offering regular Gabriel table service. And, she found time to eat lunch. ****

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