The after-work pint is being sidelined to accommodate workers who don’t drink and even young people aren’t having ill-advised drunken nights out anymore, with 21 per cent of under-25s saying they’re teetotal.
So it’s no wonder the traditional pub is undergoing something of an identity crisis while trying to draw in abstemious punters, alongside being hit hard by working from home culture.
Earlier this month, the landlord of an alcohol-free pub in Dorset boasted about booming profits despite claims it would flop on opening 12 months ago, while in London those who want to avoid a hangover now have The Lucky Saint.
Set up by the beer brand of the same name, it serves a range of low-alcohol options, which can’t legally be defined as alcohol-free, but you probably have boozier condiments in your fridge at home.
Alcohol-free drinks are currently defined in England as not exceeding 0.5 per cent, whereas in countries such as the US, Denmark, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Portugal, and Belgium the limit is just 0.05 per cent.
For context 0.5 per cent is the same alcohol content as vinegar or a very ripe banana and less than ketchup and it won’t get you drunk or even raise your blood alcohol level – even after 10 pints.
That’s good news if you’re part of the new wave of abstainers, but less appealing if a proper pint at your local is the highlight of your week.
To put it to the test, we sent beer enthusiast Rich Pelley – who never drinks any fewer than three pints on a night out – to see if a pub session with no real booze would prove more of a headache than a hangover the next morning.
Rich Pelley enjoyed an evening out at The Lucky Saint pub in Marylebone to find out what a boozer without any ‘proper’ beer is really like
I’m not a massive drinker, but in inner circles I’m known as ‘Three Pint Pelley’, due to my insistence of having three pints every time we go out.
Any less, I reason, is a waste of failing to reach the desired three-pint alcohol buzz.
My friends are on to my ruse of offering to get in the first round, so I can insist on buying a third. I’ve never tried sticking to low or non-alcoholic lagers before.
I’m not a fancy drinker. Pint of Kronenberg, Stella, Amstel please, I’m not fussed. Fancy pils or craft lagers, no thanks.
My friends say my drinking habits are stuck in the ’90s. So are my fashion and music habits. I’d be drinking a pint of Hofmeister in a pair of baggy flares at the Intrepid Fox in Wardour Street (which closed in 2006) listening to Oasis if I could.
Instead, I find myself on a sunny August evening at The Lucky Saint, which has been opened by the low-alcohol beer brand of the same name on the site of a historic Victorian pub that had been left derelict since Covid.
As a generation Xer who still very much likes a tipple I was intrigued to see if I could miraculously manage to stay sober and resist temptation, especially because the pub sells a mix of options – low and no-alcohol and regular booze.
Anthony from Ealing was on his second pint of Bavarian Helles and said he wouldn’t be trying the low alcohol beers on offer because they ‘don’t do it for him’
The Lucky Saint pub in west London where they serve their own brand of low alcohol beer, as well as a selection of regular booze
Caroline (front left) from Yorkshire, ‘bookmarked’ her glass of rosé with an alcohol-free beer, while her friend Laura (back left) stuck to wine
In addition to pints of its own beer, other low alcohol options include 0.5 per cent Big Drop cider at £4.50 a can, and alcohol-free Guinness at £5.50.
They also sell alcoholic drinks, but staying off the booze won’t necessarily guarantee a cheaper night out.
It’s £6.50 for a draft pint of 0.5 per cent Lucky Saint, the same price as a pint of 4.6 per cent Camden Hells or a pint of Gravity Theory cider. A pint of 4.3 per cent Timothy Taylor’s Landlord pale ale is cheaper at £6.20.
‘I had an alcohol free beer when I arrived. Now I’m drinking a rosé, but it was a bookmark,’ says 36-year-old Caroline from Yorkshire, who works in tech and now lives in Spain.
‘I combine non-alcoholic with alcohol and I go through periods of drinking just non-alcoholic. I drink Lucky Saint. I know the brand, so that’s why I came here.’
‘Caroline said to meet here, but I’m aware of the brand,’ says 36-year-old Laura from Yorkshire, who works in London and is drinking an £8 glass of 12.5 per cent Mediterranée rosé.
The Lucky Saint sell plenty of low and non-alcoholic wines. It costs £5 for a glass of 0 per cent Noughty Sparking Chardonnay and £8 for a glass of 0.4 per cent Muri Sherbert Daydream. They also sell low and no spirits.
‘People at work say this is a good place for non-alcoholic drinks,’ adds Laura. ‘If it was a Monday or Tuesday, I’d definitely be drinking non-alcoholic. What are you fishing for?’
I’m fishing for the fact that we are a nation of alcoholics who can’t enjoy themselves without booze. Or at least, that’s what I thought until now.
The Lucky Saint is what I’d describe as posh, set inside a quiet residential street in central London.
It was really busy outside but quite empty inside because it was a sunny evening. Also, you’re allowed to take glasses outside instead of making you put your drink in a plastic one.
Rich said that he could be persuaded to swap one of his pints on a night out for a low alcohol version
It didn’t feel like it was going to get raucous but that’s because it was all quite civilised – even though everyone seemed to be drinking alcohol anyway.
And where does get that lively anymore? Who now goes to the pub after work, especially one in central London where nobody actually lives?
‘People come here for the ambience and the drinks,’ says Caroline. ‘It’s nice to be social but not necessarily go home pissed.’
‘It’s inclusive because if you don’t drink alcohol, you can still come for a draft pint,’ adds 40-year-old Chris from London who works in tech and is drinking a £6.50 pint of 5.3 per cent Bavarian Helles. ‘My next one will be a low-alcohol Lucky Saint. It’s a good way to pace yourself.’
I’m onto my second pint of Lucky Saint and my uncultured taste buds have already forgotten that I’m not on the regular lager.
Anthony from Ealing is on his second pint of Bavarian Helles. Is he going to have the magic third? ‘Yes.’ Good man. Except … hang on. Aren’t boring old gen Z supposed not to drink?
‘I just enjoy having a drink,’ he says. ‘Non-alcoholic beers don’t really do it for me.
Lucky Saint PR Manager Kevin Lyster pops down from the office above and even invites us up for a look-see. So, how’s business?
‘It’s been great,’ he smiles. ‘We get lots of running and cycling clubs. We’re just down the road from the BBC, so we get some celebs in.’
Oooh, celebs! Like who?
‘Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day came in for a Lucky Saint and tagged us on Instagram. We had fans coming in saying: “Is there a secret gig happening?” It’s amazing the power of the internet.’
This reminds me of Taylor Swift’s favourite kebab shop in Kentish Town in North London that features in the video to End Game.
It’s also about this time of night – I’m now on my third Lucky Saint – that I start fancying a kebab. But with a clear head, I’m not sure I could stomach one. Nor do I feel the need to steal a traffic cone.
I’ve had a lovely night. My stomach feels familiarly full of beer, but I don’t feel drunk for sure. That’s one of the things about drinking. Often you don’t realise how drunk you were until you wake up in the morning and think: ‘Oh dear’.
Waking up without a tinge of a hangover after a night at the pub is a new first. I’m not sure I’d make a habit of it, because I do like a drink.
But I can see me swapping one or even two of my magic three pints for a low-alcohol beer, and perhaps becoming a slightly less annoying friend.