There's a lot to be said for a traditional, slightly jaded pub in Cardiff. Mission 'Brains' is otherwise almost total in the city, and thank goodness that the odd place like the Butchers is hanging on. And in a bit of old style too. Plenty of quirky historical pictures hang from the walls, there's a regulars' bar area down the front with darts and dirt, plus a couple of lounges towards the back. There's even a honky-tonk in the corner.

Just in case you want a drink too then you'll get a reasonable beer. HB is the regular ale, and they quite often have the likes of Butty Bach, conditioned really well too. If only the same effort went into the food. The menu seems to get smaller and smaller, and you're not going to win and prizes for guessing most of the contents: sausage and mash, lasagne, baguettes, curry blah blah blah. And neither is the food going to win any prizes, not the sort they would want it to win anyway. Sausage and mash comes with chewy sausages, mash that is with uncooked potato lumps, dried out veg and a lumpy gravy. Cornish pasty and chips is exactly that. Not one for vitamin lovers, but good if you're a big fan of the colour yellow. Only the cheese ploughmans brought a genuine smile, although that was mostly for the (reasonably decent) cheese, and not for the spoonfuls of tasteless low-end salad that turned up alongside.

There's something else about the Butchers too, a kind of sinister undertone. Even though people are happy, the beer's flowing, and the chewy sausages are flying out of the kitchen, you can't help feeling tension in the air. Is it a sense that you're intruding on someone else's territory? Can't put my finger on it. Maybe you can.