Pubs & Bars: Marlborough Hotel (145 King St. Newtown)

The Marlborough Hotel is like capsicum. By itself, capsicum is sort of icky and gross and far too capsicum-y. But if you put it on a pizza or in an omelette or something, it suddenly becomes awesome. Similarly, spending an entire night at the Marlborough is uninspiring and sort of boring, but as a stop-off point, it’s great.

The ‘back bit’ of the Marly is awesome. (Technically the ‘back bit’ is called Bar Prego, but my Italian accent is predictably terrible so I refuse to call it that). It’s filled with very comfy grey couches and some conventional seating for those who enjoy eating instead of drinking. There’s pool tables and nice sombre lighting. But best of all, the outside courtyard is totally nice and relaxing.

With an amusingly small water feature and metal seats, the courtyard in ‘the back bit’ should really be an abhorrent testimonial to the great outdoors gone bad. And yet, when I’m sporting a jacket, there’s nothing better than downing schooies in the cool Winter air of Newtown. The water feature is cute in its retardedness, and the metal seats can easily be bypassed for wooden bench seating.

The Marly is at the top of its game as a kick-off point. Newtown, for all its scungy bogans and spastic hipsters, is totally full of quite fun bars, and the Marly works brilliantly as a way to ease yourself in to the divine sweetness of a big night out. Here’s a night I planned earlier: relax in the Marly courtyard for a few hours (drink a lot), move on to the dubious pseudo-Irishness of Kelly’s (drink a lot), bat on to the Townie so some insane fucker can tell you about his bizarre theories (drink a lot) and finally end up at Zanzibar and throw up all over it if you possibly can. Enjoy my metaphorical drinking pizza!

(Originally not published in The Brag because the Under The Bar column ceased existing).