The interior is a dingy museum of curbside communist scrap, from propaganda posters and slashed portraits of Lenin to clunky cameras and chunky radios. As rough around the edges as its clientele, there's no lack of menace to the mainstays at the bar and you should probably put your galoshes on before entering the toilets. The Polish punk, ska and metal on airplay represents the taste of the sturdy, tattooed barstaff who won't hesitate to throw you across the room if provoked, yet we can't help but love this completely unpredictable hole-in-the-head dive bar.