The Duke of Albany was the shittiest shit hole pub you could ever imagine. The first time I took my missus there; she went in to the ladies loo and discovered a turd in the sink. She didn’t come back again (to the pub that is). You stuck to the floor if you stayed still too long and if you weren’t careful you’d you sit on a spring and do yourself damage. That pretty much sums it up. It was a shit hole, but it was our shit hole. Me, Skylark, Knighty and Dr Foss (who some might know as Tall Tell) and who I like to think of as the original Dangerous Brothers, ironically had just seen our beloved ‘The Arrows’ pub in Pomeroy Street (‘the Arrers’) shut down so it could be re-developed in to flats. Little did we know that our next pub would have the same fate? After trying out the Five Bells for a few weeks we found that it did not have enough character and other than the friendly Eastern Europeans serving us, there was no one that worked there that you could get to know. So we found the Duke of Albany. From the outside, it looked like a half decent pub and still does as no work has yet to be done on it. With blue paint and a Millwall flag in the centre window, what more could you ask for? Inside was a different story. To say the carpet had seen better days is an understatement. You literally stuck to it as you walked. The seats were in a dreadful state. Many had springs literally coming up through them so that you had to be careful where you sat. You would need to wiggle and shift yourself around until you found a comfy spot, normally on a bit of foam that had survived. It was dark and gloomy, unless the sun happened to make an appearance through the long ago washed curtains and there was a smell about it (that you soon got used to) of wet dog (much like the smell of a bad pint of Fosters, if there is ever a good one). In the winter it was so cold you could see your own breath. No landlord up until the very last would ever put the fire on. The first landlady we met was Bev. Bev was a great landlady. She called you a c*nt the first time she met you (and the last) and like any decent landlady she would remember your name and remember your drink. She also took a shine to Terry as did the next barmaid. Maybe it was the amount of cider he drunk or the state he got in to after too many. In those early days I too liked a pint or two of cider until later when my love affair with Guinness began. And so it was like that for many months. Me and Skylark would be in there first most days at 10.55am and would soon be on the phone to Knighty, calling him names because he could not arrive until 11.30am. Terry would always be close behind. Always at about 1pm it would get busy. We would leave at 2.30pm (again with Terry close behind, he would always fit in another half) and make our way across Jews Hill and more than occasionally we would smoke one of Terry’s joints along the way. After the game the pub would always be full and it was often a race to get back to the bar before it got crowded and Tall Tel was always there first. Before long we would be joined by friends who we had met at the top of the East stand (the Gurneys and co) and later, after the birth of MISA, we would be joined by many many more. A special mention must go to Dalboy here who would make an effort to get to the pub as early as he could. About this time a pool table was introduced and the Juke box was used regularly, especially nearer kick off when Millwall songs would be played and sang by all. Hair standing stuff. Nick B, Nez, Dartford, Claire Elise were some of the first (that I remember seeing regularly) and then more and more MISA members came so that by the end there were at least 30 or more regular MISA members in the Albany before and often after the game. I know some of you were there before us or MISA (Gazza?), so I don’t wish to offend anyone by missing them out. As time went by, we had new landlords including Joe and then Paul and finally an Irish family who lit the fire for the first time, but one member of staff that stayed through it all was Caroline. Caroline was always polite (if you stayed on her good side) and friendly, a brilliant barmaid and she often made a huge effort to open early doors. I think, in a perfect pub, we would all like a barmaid like Caroline. Early doors at the Albany were sometimes 6am, even 5.30am on one occasion. If an excuse was needed, this was often for West Ham games (home and away) and is just one of many stories of events at the Albany. One particular West Ham game at 6am, it was freezing cold inside and Caroline and Paul were offering cups of tea rather than pints to keep people warm. Later on in the morning, police vans pulled up outside and coppers started to peer through the (thankfully) dusty windows. The then landlord Paul went in to panic mode and ordered everyone upstairs. For the first time we got to see what the living quarters of the Albany looked like. It wasn’t pretty. The kitchen was a mess and after that day I never ordered another roll. It didn’t stop some people though. We were herded to the second floor where there was a huge hall and disused bar. Nick B, who at that moment, had decided to go and have a shit, came out of the bog expecting a full pub, only to bump in to some coppers who promptly told him to leave and if I remember correctly, he never got back in, while the rest of us continued celebrating. Another early doors do saw us moved to the back of the pub downstairs when the coppers arrived. With coppers only meters away, notes were rolled and, well you know the rest. After the second time Paul realised it was not worth getting stressed about and on a couple of occasions coppers strolled through the bar to nods and funny comments only to leave again realising that the hassle of turning out 50 or more drunken Millwall fans was just not worth it. One very memorable day was the Oldham championship winning home game. After a very emotional and enjoyable game in brilliant sunshine (God is smiling) we all returned to the Duke. Not long after and much to our surprise the Champions rostrum also turned up at the pub, carried by, I believe, a guy named Hillsy. It made for a nice seating area outside in the sunshine and Tall Tell got to work dolling out joint after joint after joint to all those around him. He was a proper production line. There were many visitors that day, stay away fans, etc. It was a proper Millwall day, one of the very best! Other things that spring to mind were the Bin Laden stickers on the urinals, playing darts, the games of Killer on the pool table, watching matches on the big screen, listening to the cup draws, karaoke, walking outside of the pub and back in the other door to use the bog. Sean of the Dead was filmed there did you know, just ask MISA poster Bear, he knows all about it. The Window Liker opposite is sure to raise a smile and I believe someone baring their breasts (was it the same person) also appeared at the window. There was the great pole in the centre that people shimmied up, the memorabilia that grew and grew, programmes above the bar, the ‘Fear no Foe’ flag on the ceiling and much much more. It had its dark moments. There were a couple of muggings outside. There were a couple of times you arrived and it never ever opened. There was not knowing its future, the council planning application letters on the doors. And there then was turning up and it never opened again. For me and many others there will never ever be a pub like it again. It remains the shittiest and greatest pub I have ever had the privilege to drink in. Without Millwall though and its fans, it wouldn’t have been half the pub it was and quite often after everyone had gone home, it wasn’t. The Duke is dead! Long Live the Duke!