The Regent, Swindon

“What bourbons do you have?” should be a reasonable question to a bartender.

“I’m not sure. What is a bourbon?” she asked, obviously thinking I wanted a chocolate creme sandwich cookie.

Me: “Barrel-aged Kentucky straight whiskey.”
First guy at bar: “Give him Jack Daniels. That’s bourbon.”
Me: “NO. STOP. I’m sorry, but that is Tennessee whiskey, and foul stuff at that.  George Dickel rolls over in his grave every time someone refers to Jack Daniels with anything but contempt.”
Barmaid: “What?”
FG@B: “Sorry.  I’ll just shut up then, shall I.”
Me: “I didn’t mean anything by it.  It’s just Jack Daniels is only fit for amateur drinkers who don’t realise how offensive it is to put fine liquor into sweetened soft drinks.”
Second guy at bar: “What about Jim Beam?”
Me: “Yeah, Beam would be lovely.  I’ll have a double Jim Beam.”
Barmaid: “We don’t have Jim Beam.”
Me: “Of course.”
Guy next to me: “I’ll have another, love.”

The bartender took GNTM’s glass and got a shot of Jack Daniels and topped it with Coke. This was going well.

Me, deciding malt might be a workaround: “Tell you what…give me a couple of shots of that Glenfiddich there and a small glass of water on the side.”

The bar at the Regent is stainless steel topped, there’s a snooker table taking up most of the adjacent room to the bar, and I think this serves as a music venue from time-to-time.  Good whisky prices, and they take an undue amount of shit from foreigners.  I might not visit again, but you should.