Let’s be real: Wetherspoon pubs are not architectural masterpieces. This one is a brick box near a roundabout, with that distinctive beige-and-wood vibe they all share. But The Moon & Sixpence tries hard—there’s a weird nautical theme, maybe hinting at Southsea’s seaside history, with a rusty anchor by the door. It’s like someone said, “Let’s make it characterful,” and then ran out of budget for actual character.
You’ll find it in a spot that’s half gentrified, half forgotten, near Portsmouth’s Southsea Common. Locals call it “The Spoons,” obviously. No one calls it by its full name unless they’re being sarcastic, as in, “Fancy a quick one at The Moon &… yeah, mate, you know the place.” It’s a meeting ground for students avoiding essay deadlines and old blokes who’ve been drinking there since the 90s.
The Menus & The Madness
You can get a burger and a pint for under a tenner here, which is almost unpatriotic—how do they even make money? The food is aggressively okay: chips that are either perfect or sad, burgers that taste like they’ve been hugged by a hot plate. But hey, for £5.99, you’re not expecting Michelin stars. You’re expecting to forget the price of living for twenty minutes.
London [HA]-MOON & SIXPENCE (JDW), 250 Uxbridge Rd, Hatch … | Flickr
Side note: ever notice how the curry sauce at Wetherspoons has that distinct orange hue? I swear it’s the same colour as the carpet. Maybe it’s recycled. (Okay, probably not, but let me have my conspiracy.) The coffee machine hisses like a dying dragon, and the only “craft” beer is a stale IPA called “Crafty Devil.” You’re not here for the vibe, but the vibe finds you anyway.