Drinking in Clubland

A look at 'London Clubland: A Companion for the Curious' by Seth Alexander Thévoz.

The only club I've ever been a member of is the now-defunct Hyde Park Social in Leeds where a year’s membership cost a pound and Tetley was £1.20 a pint. I spend a large part of my time as a student playing pool and drinking there.

I'm not naturally a 'clubbable' person. I especially don't enjoy the company of large groups of men. The word, I learned from Seth Thévoz, the authority on London's clubland, came before the word 'club' and originally meant someone who paid his share – the opposite being 'unclubbable'. 'Clubbable' came to mean "good fellowship; embodying everything from conviviality to good company,” he writes.

Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster at Drones (actually the Savile)

Nevertheless, I have over the years dallied with joining. When I was a thrusting young publisher, there was talk for a while of my firm paying for my membership of top media wanker hangout the Groucho Club. The idea was that it was a useful venue to host meetings and parties. It never amounted to anything when I became persona non grata after the Russell Brand incident. Later, my Uncle Peter wanted me to join one of the historic clubs, Boodle’s, but I couldn't afford it. I was also thinking about 67 Pall Mall, a specialist wine club, but couldn't square the cost of membership with raising a young family.

I'm probably with Groucho Marx when it comes to actually joining a club: "I wouldn't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member." But I am fascinated by them, hence why I love reading Seth Thévoz – try saying that name with a Castilian lisp. He's an Anglo-Swiss writer who wrote a history of London clubs a few years ago, Behind Closed Doors. It seems I'm not the only one, as the media's obsession with the Garrick, the club that happens to have the most media types as members, shows. During the recent brouhaha over female members, Sting and Stephen Fry’s resignation threat was a lead item on the BBC news!

Thévoz’s follow-up book is called London Clubland: A Companion for the Curious. The subtitle is apt because if you have ever wanted to know what goes on behind the doors of London's clubs, then this is your chance. What could be a rather dry book looking at histories, joining procedures and facilities actually turns out to be enormously good fun, rather like a Schott's Miscellany of clubs.

You'll get some understanding of Thévoz's range by the two clubs he is a member of: the Athenaeum, one of the grandest clubs for political types with members including Theresa May and Trevor Phillips, and the New Evaristo Club in Greek Street. The latter, also known as the Hideout and Trisha's, is a dive bar where I spent much of my twenties having lost evenings. See also the Troy Bar on Hanway Street and Gerry's in Dean Street, which also features in London Clubland. I have never been to the Athenaeum.

The first part of the book is a gazetteer of clubs divided into historic and modern, and subdivided into further sections like Aristocratic Clubs, Dining Clubs, and Soho Drinking Clubs. All life is here. It gives you a potted history of each club, number of members and reciprocal clubs. Thévoz also includes a line: "What they probably don't want you to know." Apparently White's is "nowhere near as aristocratic today as its reputation suggests." They let anyone in these days, darling.

From there, there are chapters on the culture of clubs – from how to join to how to behave and how not to behave – as well as more miscellany-type stuff like the appearances of clubs in films and TV, such as the use of the Savile Club and others in Jeeves & Wooster. There's a witty section on club archetypes like the bore or the alcoholic, as well as more random things like the byzantine rules of Savile Snooker from Stephen Potter, author of the Gamesmanship books. I had to check with Thévoz – this is a real game, not a spoof. For those who like this kind of thing, Thévoz goes into far more detail on his Clubland Substack which isn’t just devoted to London or even England.

There's also a section on food and drink, including recipes for dishes and cocktails like the Buck's Fizz and the Sidecar, both of which are attributed to Malachy McGarry, the original barman at Buck's, the club which was the model for Drones in the Jeeves & Wooster books.

One of the joys of clubs for me, and probably the best reason to join, is the remarkably low prices of wine at the established ones. Over lunch at the Garrick with a journalist friend, I enjoyed a bottle of Mercurey Faiveley Framboiserie 2017 for about the same price you would pay retail for a new vintage of the same wine. It's important to have an engaged and knowledgeable wine committee, or the list can become stale. I've also heard stories of clubs selling off some of their rarer wines to raise funds which is a shame. Like me, Thévoz is a massive Lusophile and really knows his port, with some great recommendations such as Fonseca's peerless budget Bin 27 or tawnies from Niepoort and Noval – perfect to serve by the glass. He doesn’t approve of clubs offering vintage port by the glass as old wines can deteriorate very quickly.

Despite my Groucho-esque misgivings, reading London Clubland made me hanker after joining. I am tempted by the Savile, which seems to me about the least stuffy of the old school men-only clubs. Thévoz describes it as "raffish, cultured, free-thinking and free-talking." I hear it also does rooms at very reasonable prices.

Maybe one day when the children have grown up. There is, however, a club closer to home in Faversham: the aptly named Faversham Club (founded 1884). It might not have the facilities of a top London club, but I've heard it's the only place in town to get a drink after 11pm.