The Rover's Arms in Exeter

What a night! The chicken korma banged. Saag Aloo 4/10. Free poppadoms slapped. And packet of monster munch x

Myself, my good lady wife Steven and our dog, Tebay, were in Exeter on a relaxing weekend away from the hustle and bustle of life in Great Yarmouth. As part of our saturday rituals, we aim to find a small local pub to settle down and have some 'pub grub' in after a busy day excavating in Exmoor. I found this pub on my maps and so Steven, in the passenger's seat, duly navigated us to the Rovers' Arms. I should've know what I was in for, given the apostrophe is in the wrong place. Anyway, we arrived at the given address to find no off-street parking: a sea of Volkswagen Polos, mainly of the 1.2 petrol derivative filled the car park and poor Steven had to cross the road - being a bilateral amputee this was a great struggle for her, and there was poor lighting which meant she tripped up and cut her stomach (it would've been her knees but she doesn't have any legs). We were greeted at the door by a dishevelled looking ruffian who said his name was Olly. He had no uniform on and smelt a bit of soggy potatoes. He seemed somewhat surprised by our arrival but nevertheless attempted a smile and showed us through in. Tebay told me that he didn't like the look of this place- and I should have paid more attention to his wise words. What we hadn't factored in was that the Rovers' Arms is not a pub but in fact a shed at the back of someone's house- a couple of Bar Wenches there were not, save for a few girls wandering around outside. Steven is angered by loud noises and excessive talking- all she wanted to do was chow down on her favourite Crispy Duck in Custard, but a hapless man called Will refused to serve us this. All that could be provided in this dimly lit shed was a can of lager and an enthusiasm for cigarettes and darts. Fortunately, my request of cold fish with hot milk was catered for, but the milk came cold and the fish hot. Steven's pocket-microwave soon sorted this out. Even this was somewhat disappointing, as they didn't realise that I in fact am the 1986 North Norfolk Darts Champion. I left Steven to drown her sorrows with a glass of battery acid while I duly destroyed the opposition in their own back yard (quite literally). By the time it was time to return to our tents on the Cathedral Green, Steven, pumped up on battery acid and custard (she found a sachet in her suitcase), became quite violent and began complaining about the lack of biscuits available in the Rovers' Arms. A woman by the name of Isla, without hesitation, dragged Steven out by her arm and tossed her into the street. I was very shaken by our visit and implore any fellow discerning tourists not to visit this establishment. Dog friendly.

What a GREAT pub; fantastic atmosphere, cheap drinks, and friendly staff. Can’t wait to go back and play more darts :)