Pubs are being urged to diversify to survive. That means trying to be all things to all people - not just those with plenty of spondulicks, says Adam Edwards
Until last month, Prince Charles was the acknowledged patron saint of British licensees.
His canonisation was not just granted because he's a clubbable fellow, enjoys a drink (whisky, rather than beer), has an eye for the ladies and plays a reasonable game of arrows.
Nor did it arise because he and his sons are keen on local boozers - Dad has been known to pop down to the local Snooty Fox for a swift half when he's cosily holed up at Highgrove, while his sons chug-a-lug freely at the nearby Tunnel House pub.
It is his princely support of the pub as the centre of the community and his "pub is the hub" campaign that marks him out for a halo.
Last month, his Highness hosted a reception at Clarence House to celebrate the campaign's fifth anniversary, stressing the need for pubs to be at the heart of the community and help in providing essential services. His jolly idea - albeit rather idealised - has been to encourage the pint-pulling licensee to become part-time grocer and village postmaster.
But a considerably more cynical institution than the Duchy of Cornwall is now taking up the community pub cudgels.
Cheque-cashing facilities
Greene King is linking up with Cheque Inns to install cheque-cashing facilities in 50 of its pubs, following a successful trial at Windsor's Three Elms - a mere peanut-flick away from Charlie's mum's world-famous castle.
Now we're getting down to the real hub of the matter.
The ability to cash a third-party cheque by endorsing the back, a practice banned by the Government in 1992, but which can be circumvented using a specialist company, is of great importance to members of the community who don't have access to enough spondulicks to pay a butler to squeeze one's toothpaste onto one's choice of gold-plated toothbrushes.
The endorsed cheque is a way of obtaining currency without jumping through too many hoops - it's a vital service when the credit card has had to be cut up and the debit card has run out of steam. This method can release funds when the chip is frozen and the PIN fastened.
And the landlord who cashes a cheque - for a percentage, of course - is providing an essential service for customers who, for example, might prefer that a partner, bank or taxman remains in the dark about the fact that they got a monkey for a little light work.
The next step is to turn the pub into a one-stop all-purpose shop - for example, the local bookie might provide betting slips and a bookie's runner. The Indian restaurant could introduce an on-premises take-away service, while the neighbouring garage could provide a tame mechanic to offer advice on customers' motors.
It was the Prince who urged us to think of the pub as the hub, but it took a King to turn the idea into a set of alloys.
The King's Cross St Pancras station complex is not blessed with a Champagne image. It has always been a tough and tawdry mini-cab and polystyrene mug kind of a place. If the station's famous for anything, it is for its down-and-outs and ladies of the night, rather than Champagne Charlies and ladies who lunch.
However, it is in this cheap neon corner of London that the longest Champagne bar in the world is now being built. At almost a hundred metres, it would take Lewis Hamilton longer to burn its length than it would for him to shake, spray and down a glass of the stuff.
The new bar is the pride of the restored St Pancras terminus, due to open in November. And while I applaud the relative magnificence of such a folie de grandeur, I do wonder whether the local tramps will be tempted to change their pitch and ask the public to spare the price of a glass of '99 Moet et Chandon.
Mourning nicotine-stained bars
It is only weeks now until the Draconian smoking ban comes into force in England.
The sensible arguments for a dedicated, cordoned-off smoking room and the installation of powerful modern ventilation systems have fallen on puritanical ears.
The clean-living bigots have got their way.
But for those who may have been thinking of shedding a tear for the quiet fag in a nicontine-stained bar, I have resurrected this description of a pub interior from WT Marchant's 1888 book In Praise of Ale.
"I heard much of drinking and smoking houses, once so famous for their good ale and justly called smoke shops. For in a room 20 feet long, 12 or 14 feet wide and eight feet high, you may find in an evening 30 or 40 men, every one with a pipe in his mouth and a glass of ale before him.
"If any of the company are wanted, the waiter, who is not permitted to call them out by name, takes a pair of bellows to disperse the smoke from the face of the drinker, till he finds the one he wants."