NO POOL. NO JUKE BOX. NO FRUIT MACHINE. NO FOOD.

Jul 19 2008 by Mike Chapple, Liverpool Daily Post

NO POOL. NO JUKE BOX. NO FRUIT MACHINE. NO FOOD.

To put such a sign at a pub entrance could be considered the commercial equivalent of placing a shotgun under the chin and blasting your brains out.

But there it is in gilt capitals on a bold red sign outside The Volunteer Canteen pub, in Waterloo. There is a post-script underneath which emphasises that there is PLENTY of good traditional beer to be had.

And, indeed, there is at this marvellous little boozer tucked away in Waterloo, a convenient goalie’s drop kick away from the station one way, with the balmy sand dunes t’uther.

There have been memorable sessions here. So memorable, in fact, that because of the copious amounts consumed the Pub Column, er, struggles to remember them. I DO remember sloping off one sunny summer’s evening to sleep off a session at the Volly in the dunes, only to awake bleary-eyed and hungover in the cold under the stars with some night creeper of a dog walker’s pooch snuffling around the lugholes.

This time, Yours Truly was accompanied by Lady Penelope of Pensby.

She’s a demure creature of Wirral-bred style and elegance who doesn’t take kindly to leering Scouse Beer Monsters mouthing “yer all right, gerl?” while simultaneously breathing clouds of cheese-and-onion crisps-tainted-Cains-fumes over her delicately coiffed blonde hair.

So I had to be on my best behaviour.

The 1827 building has been a pub since 1871, though the date above the door states 1924, which may refer to the last time it had a refurbishment.

Lovers of the modern-day trend to smother old alehouses in chrome and laminate will fall into a horrified faint at such a stubborn allegiance to the past, but such details are heaven to traditionalists. It still has its spartan public bar for real men who like to stand and frown upon such nancy boy traits as sitting down, while the cosy lounge has ye olde bell pushes to attract a drinks waiter. What’s so unusual about that, you might say?

Well, in this instance, the Volly – like its “sister” pub, the wonderful Crow’s Nest – is one of the few which still has that old-fashioned indulgence table service.

When we visited on a mid-Wednesday afternoon, which is usually quiet before the post work rush, the place was already buzzing.

And flitting between the tables was the lovely Stephanie, dispensing foaming pints to clusters of the Crosby Crew, who have stalwarts of Deuchars IPA, Black Sheep and Tetleys to choose from, along with an ever- changing guest beer. For Dave Miller, who runs the pub with licensees Mark and Nicola Crump, this facility is the foam on this perfect pint of a community pub that allegedly takes its name from the time when it served pints to thirsty Army volunteers from the former drill hall next door.

He admits it’s been a steep learning curve in his six-month first-time stint as manager, but, as a regular of over 20 years’ standing, he’s enjoying his new role on the other side of the bar.

“It’s a dream come true to be involved with something that’s been so close to my heart,” he says.

It’s a sentiment shared by other members of the Crosby Crew such as occasional Column quaffers Neil The Bitter and Twisted Bluenose, and Sir Gerry of Corner.

One visit and you’ll volunteer your love to the place as well.