NQ64 Arcade Bar

60–61 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

Previously the site of bizarro sports compound The Bunker, 60–61 St Mary Street is now home to the Instagram-friendly retro-future arcade games cyberbar of your dreams. Or nightmares. Depending on how you look at it.

There's a small but perfectly formed selection of beers on tap, although branding your house lager '4-Bit' Pilsner isn't exactly selling it. Obviously, we opt for the 4-Bit Pilsner.

While you're at the bar, you can also buy tokens for the parade of vintage arcade games on offer – the raison d'être of the whole place. Sundry games consoles from 'yesteryear' are also available to play for free.

Rarely will you see anyone playing cutesy shoot-'em-up compendium Point Blank 2 in as resolutely melancholy a manner as this.

Edgy.

If you're looking for what semiologist Roland Barthes – in a chapter entitled 'The World of Wrestling' in his seminal 1957 tome Mythologies – referred to as, "The primary virtue of the spectacle, which is to abolish all motives and all consequences," via the medium of an early '90s coin-operated videogame, then WWF WrestFest is just the ticket.

Coyote Ugly Saloon

78 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

So, here we are outside Coyote Ugly (formerly The Square about a million years ago) on an otherwise unremarkable Saturday afternoon, somewhat alarmed by the convoluted velvet rope/steel barrier walkway you have to negotiate to even make it to the door.

Not to mention the extravagantly lopsided ratio of security personnel (three) to punters in queue (zero). Maybe they're expecting trouble. Well, The Photographer has got a thirst on.

Before you make it into the primary room, there's this little side bar. We can only approve of the sort of place that enables you to get a drink on your way to getting a drink.

Well, this is awkward. There we are trying to peer at the medley of booze on offer behind the main bar and next thing you know there's a woman clad in cowboy boots and fishnet tights cavorting about right on top of the bloody counter.

This, we later learn, is *a thing* round these parts, but it doesn't half make you worry about getting your pint kicked over.

Heaven forbid you go here in a mixed group. Instead, the unwritten rule seems to be: men on one side, women on the other. Making the whole enterprise akin to a liquor-powered school disco. Just with worse music.

Oh god, the music. Did we mention the music? It's less aural pleasure, more psychological warfare – the sort of soundtrack that would have made you sympathise with Manuel Noriega.

The torture is compounded by the fact that the cheerleaders sashaying on the bar – mind that pint! – are prone to start caterwauling along at any given moment.

Still, anywhere that's got a bucking bronco is fine by us.

Kongs

114–116 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

Formerly a (slightly odd) rock bar called Charlie Browns, this is now a retro arcade games, table football and ping pong-based joint.

Combine this with some delicious fizzy lager and you can't go wrong.

There's a kind of minimalist-industrial vibe afoot – someone clearly got a good deal on a job lot of plywood.

It's the old-school videogames that are the real draw – Donkey Kong, Track & Field, Double Dragon and the like. Surely no one has fond memories of NBA Jam though?

What you can see in progress here is the worst attempt to play a game of 1942 in the history of coin-ops.

Turns out that successfully taking part in a World War II dogfight following the consumption of five pints of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is easier said than done (and it's not even that easy to say).

Further inside again and there's 2003 drive-'em-up OutRun 2 adjacent to a weird glowing wall. And some more plywood. Obviously.

The Cambrian Tap

51 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

Call it the Urban Tap House effect, if you like. What was, until recently, unloved Irish pub Kitty Flynn's is now craft ale hostelry The Cambrian Tap.

As is the way with these places (lit by de rigueur filament light bulbs, obv), there are all sorts of beers on tap that no one's ever heard of.

We opt for a couple of pints of Almond Butter Gear Shift Cable Doppelbock. And very nice it is too.

Excellent pouring technique there.

Employees are required to clock in and out using this antiquated device. Which does seem to be taking vintage chic to somewhat ridiculous lengths, if you ask us.

We do like a booth but, if you want to squeeze four people into one of them, you have to be on very good terms indeed.

The loos: the ultimate end point of any brewing process.

The long, narrow shape creates a slightly awkward space but they've made the most of it. Not least because, on particularly busy evenings, the staff actively encourage drinkers to crowd-surf their way from the door to the bar.

Although crowd-surfing while holding aloft a pint of Almond Butter Gear Shift Cable Doppelbock turns out to be much easier said than done (and it's not even that easy to say).

Charlie Browns

114-116 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

Charlie Browns is perhaps one of the more unlikely drinking spots on St Mary Street. It's (literally) an underground bar/club although, with its CBGB-inspired banner (just seen, top left), it's clearly presenting itself as being part of the metaphorical underground as well.

Erm, reading that back, I have no idea what the metaphorical underground is.

Don't forget to salute the Jägermeister flag on the way in.

Good unpretentious fare at the bar: Carlsberg, Carlsberg Export and - if you're feeling particularly la-di-da - cans of Stella.

There's free use of an Xbox 360 although, as the note stuck to the front of the metal locker in which it's encased makes clear, "There are some simply rules."

These simply rules include having to 'exchange' your driving licence or passport for a controller at the bar. Which, frankly, seems like a bit of hassle in order to have a go on a last-gen version of Kung Fu Panda.

Take your pick from either a south or west-facing pool table, whichever your preferred cardinal point is.

Other entertainment options include the skittle alley they've installed in the somewhat dangerous and unexpected location of directly in front of the bar.

The woman pictured here has just knocked down five pins and a bloke carrying two pints of lager, a large gin and tonic, and a packet of dry roasted peanuts.

Our book, A Drinker's Guide to Cardiff, is out now, priced just £2.99. Click here to look inside and to order a copy

Brewhouse

49 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

For ages - probably over a year - we were convinced that Brewhouse was a diminutive, independent coffee shop that put on afternoon gigs by wilfully naive folk singers. Kind of like Central Perk, just with less David Schwimmer.

Not being particular fans of either coffee or acoustic guitars, we always gave it a miss.

Turns out it's a popular booze palace/live music venue of some repute. How little we know.

The main room is embellished by a selection of instruments - including a number of large tom-toms - dangling precariously from the ceiling. Which does seem to add an unnecessary element of danger to having a pint here.

 

Thankfully, there's less scope for unfortunate drums-falling-on-heads incidents in the upper bar.

 

There are murals of various Welsh music icons (and Stereophonics) dotted about the place. Here's Tom doing his thing. We always thought his performances were a bit wooden but this is ridiculous.

The Bunker

60-61 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

The Bunker is, ostensibly, a sports bar. But in both name and presentation it's more like a fortified compound in which to take shelter from the impending apocalypse. (Otherwise known as a Saturday night on St Mary Street.)

It does a fine line in beverages that no one has ever heard of. Indeed, Backyard Retro sounds more like some sort of seizure-inducing moonshine than it does a legitimate lager-based product.

We order two pints of Backyard Retro.

The 'sports' aspect of proceedings comprises some darts on the telly (which, let's be honest, is a game not a sport) and the fact that there is enough open space to accommodate gymnastic floor routines.

Which is, it transpires, what those two kilted blokes on the right are limbering up for.

The gymnastics judges go on to have a rather heated discussion about scores at the bar. It's a close call but, in the end, Kilted Bloke #2 gets the nod and is through to next week's live final.

Incongruously, there's a collection of photos on the wall of former wrestler Bret 'Hit Man' Hart. Nothing like being able to gaze at a greasy-haired man clad in pink Lycra while supping your pint.

There's also a photo of Paula Radcliffe shitting herself.

They've thoughtfully created a little waiting area outside the loos. It doubles as a good place for a quiet lie-down if you've overdone it on the moonshine.

This is The Blue Room.

What happens in The Blue Room stays in The Blue Room.

Bunk House

94 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]

Plenty going on at number 94. Although surely the correct order of events should be: "Bar. Boogie. Beds." Doing the 'beds' bit first makes no sense at all.

Sticking with tradition then, we begin proceedings by heading to said bar.

Where we're joined by a man in a kilt, who appears resolutely nonplussed by the luridly coloured, miniature seating arrangement to his right. Or, indeed, the carnival of bunting and fairy lights above.

To be honest, we imagined that the 'beds' mentioned on the sign was an allusion to there being - let's say, for the sake of argument - some sort of hostel upstairs, perhaps comprising a few dorms predominantly aimed at backpackers.

But no, how wrong we are. Turns out it refers to the fact that there's a trio of beds directly opposite the bar. Which is just fucking weird.

Actually, this one's as much a chaise longue as it is a bed. Although such a description is probably a bit wordy to fit above the entrance.

Also, "Three beds (one of which is quite like a chaise longue). Bar. Boogie," just doesn't have the same ring to it.

This bloke's as baffled by the whole bed situation as we are.

More kilted fellows, determinedly supping lager and checking their mobiles.

Presumably in a bid to distract themselves from the fact that they're sitting under a tasselled yellow parasol that's adjacent to an antique sideboard draped in Cath Kidston fabric.

The cause of - and solution to - all life's ills. (Well, most of them.)

We've read the entire thing and can confirm that nothing of any merit has ever been written on this blackboard.

Christ, imagine passing out on one of those beds and then waking up to this the next morning with a hangover.