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?