Double Diamond Is Back In London's Pubs - But Will Anyone Drink It?

Last Updated 28 October 2024

Double Diamond Is Back In London's Pubs - But Will Anyone Drink It?
A Double Diamond being poured
Double Diamond was cancelled in 1996, but it's back once more in 2024. Image: Londonist

"Vile, chemical muck brewed by accountants." That's how one drinker described Double Diamond — the Burton upon Trent pale ale which came to be the drink of a nation.

The creation of Victorian Samuel Allsopp (he first brewed it in 1876), Double Diamond had grown to become the best selling bottled beer in the country by 1958. Soon after, it was poured on draft from kegs for the first time, its dynamic logo of two staggered Ds — created in 1963 by the advertising agency Hobson Bates — glowing red, orange and yellow on pumps across the land, its motto promising that a pint or two of the fizzy elixir 'works wonders'.

A sign: Double Diamond Works Wonders
The Blue Stoops is packed with vintage Double Diamond imagery and straplines. Image: Londonist

But then it all went flat. As a new wave of German-style lagers flooded the UK, demand for Double Diamond plummeted. In 1996, a commercial batch was brewed for the final time. The late Prince Philip was said to be devastated at Double Diamond's cancellation: it had been his favourite tipple.

Fast-forward to the craft beer-bedevilled London of 2024, and the unthinkable has happened. Double Diamond has risen from the grave. And you'll find it in Kensington Church Street, of all places*.

The exterior of the Blue Stoops pub
A new pub welcomes an old beer. Image: Londonist

The Blue Stoops — named for the old Staffordshire brewery-pub where Samuel Allsopp is said to have invented IPA in a teapot — is a dazzling establishment. The bar gleams with blue-glazed tiles embossed with lions' heads and the Allsopp's raised hand logo. Cutlery is stashed away neatly in ceramic jugs, ready to have at the natty menu featuring charred guinea fowl with apricot harissa and dragoncello.

For me, a pub serving Double Diamond conjures images/aromas of stale Rothmans smoke curling up from ashtrays, episodes of The Sweeney playing on a crackly old TV set in the corner, and a couple of old soaks grumbling about Ted Heath's Christmas speech while launching darts into a board and intermittently farting. The Blue Stoops is so smart and polished — a gastropub verging on a fancy restaurant — I wonder if I have right place.

A dining room with a frame Double Diamond ad
"Too Wonderful for Words" - another, shall we say optimistic?, strapline for Double Diamond. Image: Londonist

But then, sure enough, there on the counter — glowing as if still hot after hurtling through the space-time continuum — are those famous Double Ds. And so there's no doubt about it, stamped boldly above the bar, the legend: "Double Diamond Works Wonders".

I was too young to try Double Diamond the first time around, but I've always been conscious of its branding — beer mats in antique stores, photos of pubs back in the day, that sort of thing. In 1970, it cost 1/8 for a bottle of DD — in the Kensington of 2024, it's £3 for half. You wonder what the Londoners who drank it back in the day would make of that, but quite a few probably own places around here now, and wouldn't flinch.

A half pint of Double Diamond
Half a Double Diamond, sadly not in a Double Diamond glass. Image: Londonist

Taking my half pint back to the table, I quickly regret not buying a pint. The only other person in the Blue Stoops sinking Double Diamond has a pint glass emblazoned with its striking logo — something my half is missing. It feels like I've already lost part of the experience. Like its dusky, more successful cousin Guinness, Double Diamond must be at least 85% savvy marketing. Half pint glasses aside, the legacy of Double Diamond is not lost on the Blue Stoops, which is peppered with references, including Peter Probyn's cartoon adverts of the Double Diamond Little Man (in one framed print here, he's balancing on a pedestal of bottles in front of Buckingham Palace). Even the men's toilet cubicle has a DD ad in it.

But onto the beer itself; the colour is certainly on the pale side — maybe a shade darker than it's healthy for your urine to be. Concerned that its appearance won't be the only thing Double Diamond has in common with urine,  I brace myself for the first sip. I'm frankly worried it's going to taste godawful. After all, the rise of lager wasn't the only reason for Double Diamond's fall from grace. Actively harangued by the real ale buffs at CAMRA (a badge was sold at beer festivals: "DD is K9P"), many people thought DD not only represented everything that was wrong with the behemoth-controlled beer industry of the time, but that it also simply wasn't very nice: "Double Diamond and other similar beers tasted awful," Roger Protz bluntly recalled to Pellicle last year.

A cartoon advert for Double Diamond
Look out for cartoons of the Double Diamond Little Man. Image: Londonist

But my first sip leads not to disgust, but surprise. It tastes... modern. Like something brewed in 2024. The gassy tingle of bubbles, I can imagine, was the same during the beer's golden keg era. But surely not the faint tang of American-style hops? Double Diamond, it seems, has been hit with the hipster stick — tickled with it at least. Is this a new recipe? Apparently so; a Blue Stoops barman soon after confirms to me that punters have already been commenting (the Blue Stoops opened a couple of weeks back) that Double Diamond 2.0 tastes better than its deleted predecessor.

Better, perhaps, but still not all that great. My initial surprise is swamped with a crashing tsunami of indifference. Vile, chemical muck is not quite how I'd describe Double Diamond. It is also not, as another old strapline suggested, "too wonderful for words." It is a watery, wraith-like liquid. Plenty of non-alcoholic brews nowadays have more gumption. Inoffensive enough, Double Diamond is also entirely benign. It's a Wonderwall cover version in beer form. As I slowly drain my glass, I begin to think '98% savvy marketing' might be more accurate. Getting a half was probably for the best.

A Double Diamond ad in a toilet
Double Diamond ads are everywhere in the Blue Stoops. Image: Londonist

As the world creaks and teeters in these unprecedented times, we wrap ourselves tighter and tighter in a blanket of nostalgia. What society is calling out for is more sense and stability, rather than a rebooted Double Diamond. We don't need it just like we don't need an Oasis reunion or a second coming of Frasier — but that doesn't stop it from being a comforting thing to have, a reminder of simpler times. Will the Londoners of 2024 drink Double Diamond? Whether they're chasing nostalgia (or in my case, quasi-nostalgia), have especially timid taste buds, or just can't resist those retro double Ds — then absolutely they'll drink it.

On a side note, the Blue Stoops is a smashing boozer (friendly staff, great decor, stunning bar), to which I'll inevitably return. When I do, make mine a half of Double Diamond. And while you're up there, get me something to drink too.

*Other London establishments reported to be pouring Double Diamond include the Duke of York on Rathbone Street, and the Hole in the Wall in Waterloo.