64 Degrees Bar, Pimlico

Seemingly forever stuck in 1962, Wilton Street fixture Le Monde menswear boutique (pictured below) - with its jaunty Jamaican rudeboy hats, and knits last seen on Val Doonican - embodies Pimlico's eccentricity. It belongs in spirit to a London that's now largely vanished, much to my chagrin. If you haven't seen Ealing Studios' classic screwball post-War comedy, in which its kooky residents break away from the UK and declare themselves part of Burgundy, download Passport To Pimlico immediately. The film's title appears on the cocktail list at the nonconformist faubourg's newest drinking den, a warm, cosy, brick cellar hung with Warhol, Basquiat and Banksy-ness. You'll find it downstairs at 64 Degrees, the restaurant at quirky boutique hotel Artist Residence. It's the first London venture for a suitably oddball couple whose similarly whimsical postmodern Penzance hotel featured on cult TV bitchfest Four In A Bed - losing out to two clenched queens whose naff-looking Blackpool Bed and Breakfast had been voted the world's 5th best (by guests who had visited no more than five others, I like to imagine) Whilst time-warpy Pimlico ticks many boxes, its boring bar scene is also resolutely stuck in the past. So anywhere that punts Bourbon praline sour; gin, Tokaji and Aperol 'negroni'; tequila, mezcal, beetroot, cayenne and carrot fix, Acapulco (£10) and the aforementioned Passport (a gin, Syrah and forest fruit sour), should pull in the Pimlico punters. There again, as the locals are just as likely to be stopping indoors, happy at home, necking Blue Nun and Babycham, watching Dixon of Dock Green and Juke Box Jury on black and white television sets hired for half a crown a week at Radio Rentals, or eating powdered egg and snook and listening to The Goon Show on the wireless - good luck with that guys!
Artist Residence, 52 Cambridge Street SW1V 4QQ 7828 6684 

http://artistresidencelondon.co.uk

Bermondsey Arts Centre, Bermondsey

Cottaging: Joe Orton was a fan. George Michael too, splashed all over the news, busted for waving his Whammer, sent to the slammer and fined $500 when the pretty police observed him 'engaged in a lewd act' in an LA loo. But why any wanker would hang out on the off-chance of servicing Banker Billy's willy in a water closet, before the pinstripe closet heads home to the wife and kids in Croydon (ahem) beats me. Perhaps the idea of being picked up by the fuzz, the smell of industrial strength disinfectant and urine, and being shagged in a  stall in sixty seconds flat, free STD included, is too potent a thrill to resist? Deep in the bowels of Bermondsey, these former London lavs can, in future, expect to find me loitering with intent, long into the night. With great drinks and its on-the-money mix of art deco, Gotham City grunge and 50s local authority utilitarian, this film noir bar is unlikely to be a flash in the pan. The venue’s young owner, George Garnier - a St Martin’s fine art grad who now rents affordable work spaces to local artists - originally envisioned the space as a daytime caff/ social hub for his tenants. Research, however, indicated that what today’s budding Basquiat or Banksy most wants is not soup and a sarnie, but a cool place to chill until 2 a.m getting bladdered on recherché rinses: chrysanthemum (£10) and Colias (Stoli, saké and Licor 43) among them. Beers from The Kernel, Picpoul de Pinet (£25), French bubbles, share platters, renegade rock, raw retro soul, and occasional live unplugged sets are perfect for a new generation of underground cottage loafers. The only bummer is, in 2014, to spend a penny here (French 75 and as bog roll thrown in) you'll pay £9. But with drinks as good as half hardy (an El Dorado 8, basil and quince sour), Georgy Boy (Garnier, not Michael) ain't exactly taking the piss. 

102A Tower Bridge Road SE1 4TP www.bermondseyartsclub.co.uk

A version of this and my other reviews is at www.squaremeal.co.uk

Far Rockaway, Shoreditch

When I lived in New York,  reliant on the kindness of strangers, my Brooks Brothers shorts and Sebago deck shoes' days were spent at East Hampton or Fire Island Pines...the latter, as close as I ever got to Queens...as in the borough that's home to that big-in-the-1960s pleasure beach at Far Rockaway (the inspiration for this vast new Shoreditch bar/ diner on the site of the old Elbow Rooms) as opposed to the Greenwich Village People variety. Here, in eye-bleedingly busy Slush Puppy-tone colour-clash, it's the New York scene circa Basquiat, Keith Haring, Shannon's Let The Music Play, Flashdance and neon-lovin' fashion designer Stephen Sprouse that is referenced. Welcome to 1983 - complete with skateboard sculptures, album sleeve collages, a library of 4,000 Marvel comics and a DJ booth made from old ghetto blasters. To my been-there-got-the-t-shirt-and-framed-it eyes, it's all a bit ersatz - like that other 1983 NY phenomenon, Madonna - but although this is not, by some stretch, my idea of the coolest Shoreditch bar, I like its pose and swagger immensely. It's full-on, frenetic and fun (and not aimed at me, doh!) For the weekend TOWIEs that pour into the 'Ditch from London's equivalents of Far Rockaway (Southend/ Clacton/ Canvey Island), however, I'm guessing this big brash commercial brute, open until 2 am, will become the go-to DJ party shack, fuelled by lemon meringue pie, peanut butter cup, and purple haze cocktails, frozen margaritas (how very 1980s!) crack baby shooters and hot bitches (Babicka vodka, passion fruit, peppers, vanilla sugar and black pepper) at £7. In the diner - think post-disco Happy Days - pizza, franks, clubs, mac'n'cheese, meatball hero, wings, ribs, cheesecakes and brownies are the sort of eats avaialble 24/7 Stateside that remind me how, had I stayed in America for good, I'd be the size of Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and Staten Island too by now.
97 - 113 Curtain Road EC2A 3BS 8305 3090 http://www.farrockaway.co.uk