In younger days when rock-climbing in North Wales was on the agenda, Friday evenings would find us on the road from London taking to the A5 westwards. Only a couple of miles after leaving the motorway we'd come to 'the noted ham'n'eggery' as it described itself at Stretton in Staffordshire. It is there to this day still churning out the well-remembered fare and given a major face-lift in 2004 that has not totally destroyed the atmosphere.

The point is I thought it was unique, but not so. It has its twin at Midsomer Norton just south of Bath. The formula is almost identical, a scruffy outside but within a different story, a veritable cornucopia of brass and red velvet, ornaments and pictures of ancient local events past.

Though the menu is as wide as the usual pub-grub scenario, the piece de resistance is the locally grown ham and eggs, which can only be described as the ultimate in its class.

At Stretton they sell well-kept Banks Best Bitter; at Midsomer Norton it's Butcombe Bitter, both worthy cask brews indeed, as a result of which both establishments are patronised by 'persons of all classes'. Suits exchange cheerful banter with overalls and polished shorts and the wonderful classlessness of it all gives the lie to many a politician's misconceptions of the way things really are.