The Old Bank Of England Reviews

Let’s talk about the Old Bank of England. Not the actual, giant, financial behemoth. Nope, we’re diving into the reviews—the juicy, weird, and wonderful things people say about it.

This pub is a legend. It sits right where a real bank vault once held gold bars. Now it holds pints of ale and plates of pie.

A Bank with a Secret History

First, the building itself is a character. It’s a massive, Grade II listed fortress on Fleet Street. You half expect a Dickensian ghost to order a stout next to you.

But here’s the kicker: the cellar used to be a real bank vault. Yes, the kind with a giant circular door and tunnels connected to the actual Bank of England. Reviews rave about this.

One customer wrote, “I felt like a secret agent. I drank a Guinness where cash once slept.” That’s not a typo—people love the vibe of historical crime potential.

The Food: Pies That Make You Cry

Now, let’s get to the star: the pies. The Old Bank of England is famous for its steak and ale pie. Reviewers don’t just like it; they obsess over it.

“Best pie in London,” screams a five-star review. Another says, “The pastry is so flaky, it’s basically a buttery hug.” One person even claimed the gravy was “so rich it should be illegal.” We don’t judge that kind of passion.

But here’s the funny part: a few cranky reviewers complain about the size. “Too much food,” they grumble. Yes, someone actually complained about getting too much pie. That’s like complaining about too much sunshine.

Quirky Staff and Ghost Stories

The staff? They’re legendary for being efficiently grumpy—in a charming way. One reviewer wrote, “The bartender didn’t smile, but he poured my beer like a surgeon.” That’s high praise in London pub culture.

Then there are the ghosts. Really. Multiple reviews mention spotting a Victorian lady in the corner. She doesn’t drink. She just stares. One brave soul claimed she “adjusted her hat” before disappearing. Spooky, but also hilarious.

A pub with a ghost and a pie? That’s a double threat. And customers eat it up—literally and figuratively.

The Quirky Atmosphere: Posh, but Also a Bit Posh

Walking in feels like stepping into a velvet-covered time machine. Chandeliers, dark wood, and old bank teller windows. Reviewers love the contrast: “It’s fancy, but my jeans were fine.”

Here’s a funny detail: the men’s bathroom has an old safe door. Yes, you pee next to a bank vault. One reviewer joked, “I flushed away my worries with a side of financial history.”

And the ladies’ room? It’s got a mural of a nun holding a pint. Nobody knows why. But it’s the most photographed spot in the pub. Reviews call it “iconic” and “mysteriously hilarious.”

What the Bad Reviews Say (and Why They’re Funny)

Not everyone loves it. A few sour grapes complain about the crowds. “Too busy,” they moan. Duh—it’s a famous pub near a major street. Do they expect a private library?

Another complaint: “The music is too loud.” But the same reviewer also said, “But the pie fixed everything.” So even the haters cave to the pie power.

My favorite bad review: “I saw a rat outside.” Yes, outside—a city with millions of humans and rodents. Shocking. The reviewer still gave it three stars. The pie won.

Why You Should Go (Even If You Hate Pubs)

Go for the history. Go for the pie. Go to say you’ve had a beer where money once slept. It’s a bucket list experience for foodies, history nerds, or just curious folks.

Bring a friend. Order two pies. Share a ghost story. Snap a photo of the nun mural. The reviews promise you’ll leave with a full belly and a good story.

And if you’re shy? Don’t worry. One reviewer said, “I sat alone. The pie was my date. Best date ever.” That’s pure magic.

The Final, Irresistible Quirk

Here’s the crown jewel: the pub is built on the site where the Bow Street Runners once operated. That’s the original police force. So you’re drinking where law and order began—and where a ghost nun approves.

One reviewer summed it up perfectly: “Went for a pint. Left with a history lesson, a food coma, and a new respect for gravy.”

So grab your wallet (not the bank kind). Head to Fleet Street. Ignore the grumpy bartender. Thank the ghost. And write your own review. Just don’t forget to mention the pie.