If it's the place I'm thinking of, it's a modern, trendy joint built on the site of the area where, in the old days, they used to load Monty's sort onto trains. Just to be sure, the quarter is called the Old Slaughterhouse. Local humour, I suppose. My in-laws live not far away
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."
I used to hate it personally.
12 weeks I lived in the Thistle Hotel on Central Street, like a more upmarket Irish Alan Partridge.
“Fúck me, must be great to live in a hotel” my colleagues would say.
Take away kebab maybe then by 9pm sat at the bar again, just me and the barman. On a Tuesday. Beezer.