Manbar

I think I mislaid a bag there on Friday evening (Its now Monday evening) I have emailed them and been calling constantly since Saturday (during their opening hours) and I have not been able to get anyone. Disappointed to say the least. Please get back to me or pick up the phone!?

Amazing

it's dead, Jim, and no loss.

Recently got considerably better - quick service at the bar and great offers on drinks. Suffers from I'm neither a bar

After a busy first couple of weeks - when they were practically paying people to come in and sniff the red paint (hence all the 'buzzy' photos) - it's 5 months later and, sadly, this place staggers on like an over-primped, boozy old queen - desperately tired, yet bitter that nobody wants them. It seems that given the choice, nobody's buying your saggy brand of over-priced loving, Manbar. Unbelievably (for any West End bar, let alone a gay one), this place remains almost empty 5 nights a week. And only manages to muster up double figures (and then, only just!) at the weekend. So, why is Manbar emptier than Ivan Massow's head when the likes of Comptons, The Welly, Ruperts and virtually every other West End gay bar is practically bursting at the seams?? Simple answer... the staff. The tales of rude, bitchy, bad-attitude or just plain old incompetent Manbar staff, really are starting to mount. And it's not idle gossip. Who hasn't heard a story (or experienced it for themselves) about the toxic-tongued, bile-spewing bitching from this gormless gaggle of limp-wristed acid queens? I'm genuinely surprised this trashy bunch of brittle-boned numbskulls can pull a pint without breaking a wrist. Granted, there ARE definitely a few good apples mixed in amongst the rancid sludge (yes, one or two really do deserve to be somewhere better) but the majority are as incompetent as they are hissy (infact, I'm pretty sure the tall, blond supervisor with the vinegary perma-scowl actually answers to Hissy - or maybe that's the name of the bearded dwarf who can't count beyond 3). And, of course, there are the 'superstar' DJs.... as Manbar's bog-roll press releases like to call the third-rate pub-DJs who half-heartedly bob around the zombie booth, nervously playing their 3 'Now That's What I Call Faggy Muzak' compilation CDs on repeat. All miss and no hits. Which should be the new slogan for this saggy old relic. Manbar? Sadbar.. What a stinky old crock!

I will never go back to this place. Staff are so rude, door staff look moody (not the lady that used to be at profile shes a sweetheart). I put some feedback on facebook and they deleted it! Really hot and stuffy, very bad looking dancers (at least add some padding to your shorts) oh and if you wonder why the drinks are so cheap before 11 it's because its not worth going as its empty.

I should have taken note of other reviews. This place and its staff has had a personality bypass.Rude staff - rude doormen - no punters.I can't imagine it will last long with almost no custoners