A few Wel­ling­tonis­tas recently had occa­sion to dis­cuss the pos­sib­il­it­ies for get­ting a drink – a ser­i­ous drink, mind, not a Mimosa or Bloody Mary – at 9:30am on a Monday. Now we’d hate to advoc­ate heavy drink­ing to any­one (though it’s always worked for us), and none of our spec­u­la­tion should be seen as in any way sug­gest­ing that these estab­lish­ments would set you up for a pre-elev­enses binge. But there are morn­ings that def­in­itely call for a slug of some­thing medi­cin­al, so we con­sidered this a very reas­on­able request, one that any city worthy of the name should be able to ful­fil. And yet we were stumped.

There are a few cafés around that might hap­pily grant you a tot from the stash inten­ded for “spe­cial” cof­fees, and some­where like Scopa could assist with a bra­cing glass of grappa to fin­ish off break­fast in prop­er con­tin­ent­al style. But even if the likes of Meow sug­gest a more raff­ish and booz­er-friendly ambi­ence, there’s some­thing dis­cord­ant about knock­ing it back when sur­roun­ded by lattes, fluf­fies and dis­gust­ingly perky break­fast meet­ings. What we’re look­ing for is a dive bar.

Do such things even exist in New Zea­l­and? Sure, there are a few old sticky-car­pet pubs that have retained their grot­ti­ness against the tide of gentri­fic­a­tion, such as the Sta­di­um Bar, Love­locks and to some extent The Cam­bridge, but I’m think­ing some­thing more along the lines of a battered bar-top, dark spir­its on the rocks and wise­crack­ing bar­tenders, rather than formica lean­ers, jugs of Lion Brown and Sky TV.

Is that more of an Amer­ic­an and European thing? Does it require an estab­lished urb­an work­ing class, rather than a rur­al or sub­urb­an drink­ing her­it­age? I can think of a few sim­il­ar spots, but they’re very much late-night and gig-ori­ented (such as Medusa, Fringe Bar, SFBH and Bodega) rather than haunts for the mid­week bar­fly. There are oth­er dis­rep­ut­able booze­holes, but they tend to be aimed at stu­dents and back­pack­ers, all Jae­ger Bombs and whoop­ing pubes­cents, rather than world-weary soaks lament­ing divorces and polit­ics over a couple of whiskies.

But give us your sug­ges­tions, fel­low bar­flies. Where’s your favour­ite refuge for a pre-lunch tipple? And what are the dive-iest dive bars in town?