‘NFL’ they proclaim. Choice and differentiation are the order of the day, barman. So, to combat the chains, gastropubs and closures, arise the micropub. An invention the drinkingman would favour? Well, no. It might appeal to some, but only if you’re a beardy, real ale antediluvian who thinks that the best pubs appear in Thomas Hardy novels. No, a pub that bans everything it fascistically finds offensive to the CAMRA police while swilling indifferent, poorly kept beer in homosocial environments is not what we need. What we need are warm, welcoming, sociable and lively pubs that take a pride in how their beers are kept and serve up crystal-clear pints to appreciative drinkers who do not simply wish to escape their spouses. Ok, so ban phones, slot machines, and food. And No Fucking Lager (NFL)! … Unless it’s brewed in Fucking Austria.