Roy

I must admit, I’ve only been to Roy’s a couple of times, both times around 3am after copious amounts of wine. It’s not the kind of place you go to sober. Or early. Roy’s before 3am is a sad and lonely place, with people mourning unkept promises, dirty affairs and lost loves.

At 3am however, the place comes into its own. It’s like a funeral wake that’s suddenly become a hen do. You’ve got to be in the right mood for it. Ready to sway along to Schlagermusik and down Jägermeister while standing on the bar. The last time I was there I saw a well-known older, overweight actor being chatted up by a lithe young nineteen year old, much to his delight. When I say “chatted up”, I mean she simply straddled him. There wasn’t much talking involved. The bar is a place of excesses and debauchery, of kitsch fairy lights, gaudy ornaments and tinsel.

It’s wonderfully kitsch. Plucked from the seventies/eighties and squeezed into Munich’s city centre. It’s a lovely alternative if you normally stumble into Kennedy’s Irish pub after going out dancing. Yes, it’s a bit bewildering, but there’s a lot of fun to be had – and it’s definitely one of a kind.