The Star Tavern, 6 Belgrave Mews West

Getting lost in Belgravia is rather easy, as all the streets tend to look the same: giant stucco-fronted townhouses as absurd and grandly intimidating as a row of armed soldiers in bearskins. The mews roads behind are usually more interesting, as you pass through a giant wheatsheaf-decorated arch into a maze of little streets and rather more human-sized domiciles. Having, therefore, heard about a mews pub in Belgravia, I was expecting something relatively modest, like the Dover Castle in Marylebone, and was surprised instead to be faced with a building more in keeping with the main hotel in a fair-sized town. Rich tourists are the order of the day here, eating traditional English fayre and guzzling real ale like there's no tomorrow, and there was a particularly impressive line in aged Californian lotharios, all linen suits, intercontinental business deals, dubious moustaches and plastic girlfriends. It's a great hunting ground if you are looking to marry a rich, old person who will drop dead of a heart attack mid-flagrante, but for the rest of us, best stay far, far away.

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