Regent's Park - The Jackalope

Thursday 6th April 2023

As well as being the second least used station in all of Zone 1, Regent's Park is one of only four stations on the Bakerloo Line with no above ground station building. Once you descend down to the subterranean ticket barriers, you're confronted by the choice of taking the stairs or the lift to get you even further below ground.

For the majority of the station's existence the same lifts have transported passengers from platform to ticket hall. At one stage the cost of replacing them was considered so significant, it was proposed that the station should be closed altogether. This obviously never happened and in 2007 Regent's Park was retrofitted with brand spanking new lifts. So, naturally, when I visited I took the stairs. These descend down a green tiled corridor before spewing you onto the platform clad in a more garish mustard and maroon brick which in places is used to spell out Regent's Park.

A short walk away, as you amble down a traditional London Mews, you find The Jackalope, one of only two remaining mews pubs in Marylebone. Built in 1777 and now Grade II listed, the pub's name refers to the mythical creature that resembles a jackrabbit with antelope horns (noticeably different from the very real antelope jackrabbit that roams the plains of Arizona and Northern Mexico). The pub's sign which overhangs the mews, as well as the wallpaper throughout, depicts the animal's appearance, a hare-like creature with deer antlers, not that any regular players of the Wyoming Lottery, for which the Jackalope is famously the logo, need any reminder.

As you enter The Jackalope, you immediately front onto a curved mahogany bar with glasses sitting above. Both behind the bar and on the walls around the entrance, you notice your reflection staring back at you from several mirrors. Historically these played an important role for coachmen who'd use the mirrors underneath the dividing beam to detect when their passengers were ready to leave.

There's an eclectic range on draught at The Jackalope, all listed on a chalkboard above one of many small rooms capable of being sealed off by sliding doors. I opted for a Bitburger Pilsner (£5.50) on Jonny's recommendation that they were an excellent seller in the Stockport off-license he once worked in. Given that I ended out having several and feeling a little dusty the next morning, it's safe to say I found them very drinkable.

Downstairs the pub transforms into a Xiao Mian noodle kitchen, serving traditional noodle soup from the Chinese city of Chongqing, authentically fronted by an Irishman. I'm not quite sure where noodles sit on the list of appropriate pub cuisines but these are certainly delicious whilst numbingly spicy for anyone, yours truly included, cocksure enough to test themselves beyond the moderate heat level.

Also downstairs you'll find the toilets. In the gents, in perfect viewing distance from the urinal, are five fashion tips passed down to the American journalist Tom Junod by his father. Dan, alarmingly comfortable with taking photographs in a toilet, showed these to us on his phone upstairs, allowing each of us to determine whether we were dressed in line with the advice that evening. My results were as follows:

1. The turtleneck is the most flattering thing a man can wear - No. Also, nonsense. Eric Pickles, for example, would look dreadful in one.

2. There is nothing like a fresh burn (tan) - Impossible. I'm British and I can't remember a single sunny day this year.

3. Always wear white to the face. A white shirt or a white collar - Yes! I assume a white shirt being covered in splashes of chilli oil from Xiao Mian noodles is an added bonus.

4. Make sure to show plenty of cuff - I'd rolled up my sleeves to go to try and cool myself from the heat of the noodles.

5. The better you look, the more money you make - On the basis that I was making zero money when I once dyed my fringe peroxide blonde, I can't argue with this.

Soon after, the final call for last orders came and went as we sat at a tall skinny bar table lit by the glow of a banker's lamp at the far end. This was followed by the dawning of the artificial light signifying it was time to leave. Looking as unfashionable as ever, I headed off to the tube.