The Nags Head, Enderby — Restaurant in Blaby

After months of searching throughout the Midlands for the perfect wedding reception venue, me and my fiancee settled on this lovely little public house on the fringes of Enderby.

The decor is decidedly British (think Union Jacks and pictures of Thatcher on the walls) which is fantastic for us as we both voted to leave the European Union. The food is fantastic as well, I'm surprised that the chef at 'the Nags' hasn't been picked up by a fancy restaurant in the close bustling metropolis of Leicester. What a spread! We're talking real English fayre - pork pies, sausage rolls and proper pineapple and cheese on sticks. A particular highlight was of course the drinks selection, with Tiger on tap (my wife's favourite), we knew we couldn't go wrong.

The only minor upset of the night was that although we'd expressed that only those invited could attend, a regular 'Bob' and his friend 'Arthur' pushed their way passed the mother of the bride (who's in her 90s) to sit at their regular bar stools. So as to not upset the apple cart (and because they looked tough - possibly ex-forces) I agreed that they could stay on condition that they not have anymore than 5 pints of Tiger each, and a handful of snacks from the buffet spread.

In fairness to Bob, after the band had ended he got up on stage and gave us an excellent rendition of 'You Brought a New Kind of Love to Me' by the late great Frank Sinatra. It was quite remarkable how much he sounded like the real thing.

To cap off the evening, him and Arthur led the pub in a few choruses of 'Jerusalem' and 'Rule Britannia'. The wedding party swelled with pride as we were led through chants about leaving the EU (Arthur nearly spoiled the mood by making a distasteful joke about our marriage ending up in messy divorce - just like the UK and EU).

We finished the event around 11 o'clock, with a car taking me and my wife off to the airport for our honeymoon in Benidorm.

All in all, a fantastic evening in a lovely little pub with the spirit of Dunkirk swirling...

Can’t recomend enough. Attended while passing through as I spotted an elderly man in a white vest shadow boxing out the front and I was Instantly intrigued. As I parked up I got the whiff of lager and a touch of a pot noodle and knew I was in for a treat of a visit. Once I entered I was very pleased with the layout and decor. England flags were all over the gaff and it really made me feel like it was a blue passport pub. Bar staff were very very polite, especially dolly, birds are her favourite hobby and we chatted about them for ages. I then encountered the local fella in the white vest. And he made the experience even more sweet, he wasn’t impressed with the fizzy pop I was drinking but I had upmost respect for him as I later found out (after a lot of pressing and work) he was in the forces and he used to dish up wallops in the heights of the troubles, but he didn’t like speaking about it. We also had a passionate chat about football and funnily enough we supported the same team in Leicester city. It made the experience even better if I’m honest. The fella had some great stories about his rover getting him up and down the country! If I remember correctly his name was bob?! Safe to say I will be returning to this pub. The local people and bar staff are really great people and epitomise this great country.

So all in all a great visit. Highly recommend, Great staff, great customers and great...

A shining hard-brexit jewel in a sea of PC-gone-mad gastro bars with their table tennis, their books and their half pints of gender fluid. Serves proper drinks, like Tiger on tap, or via a mainline straight into the veins (recommended). Atmosphere reminded me of the good ole days i.e 'Farage-esque with a hint of Mogg'. Went in and couldn't see the bar through the Union Jack bunting and the dimpled mugs, the barmaid proudly declaring that they do not recycle (despite tyrannical EU regulations) nor do they use hoovers (in protest of the EU mandated 'powerful hoover ban' that has blighted these shores and it's carpets for the last time). One old man in the corner with a whippet and a pint of gravy sets the tone off nicely. I witnessed him dish out multiple wallops to passing students, librarians and vegetarians who tried to enter. apparently his name was Bob and he served in Ireland at the height of the troubles (very dangerous) not that he talked about it mind (extremely modest, unlike all these millennial types). The air is delightfully thick with daily mail, Boris on the TV declaring public spending cuts for softie socialist types is met with cheers here. I breathe in and fill my lungs with colonial glee....