Right, so here’s a mental thing: I was in The Bridge House the other day (don’t judge), nursing a pint of Thornbridge Jaipur that cost me £2.55.
Two pounds fifty-five. For a 5.9% independent craft IPA. Try finding that in the Cathedral Quarter. You won’t.
If you ask for a “craft IPA” in most trendy spots near City Hall, you won’t get an independent guest ale. You’ll be handed an Open Gate Citra (owned by Guinness) or a Whitewater (distributed by Tennent’s). You’ll pay £6.70 for the privilege. You are paying premium independent prices for macro-owned liquid.
And as I sat there, surrounded by the usual Tuesday afternoon crowd, I had a thought that would probably get me kicked out of most craft beer WhatsApp groups: what if Wetherspoons is actually.. one of the only places in Belfast treating craft beer with respect?
Bear with me here.
The Illusion of Choice (Or: The “Big Four” Stranglehold)
To understand why Spoons is weirdly important here, you have to understand that Belfast’s accessibility to genuine craft beer is basically non-existent. Walk into almost any “independent” bar in the City Centre, and you’ll see the same taps.
Why? Because the market is stitched up.
Most Belfast bars are what’s called “tied houses” .. pubs locked into exclusive supply agreements with the “Big Four” (Diageo, Heineken, C&C/Tennent’s, and Molson Coors). In exchange for the loans required to pay our sky-high license fees, publicans sign away their freedom to buy beer from anyone else.
That “local craft” tap on the bar? It’s likely Whitewater. Now, credit where it’s due: Whitewater is still founder-led and they brew good beer in Castlewellan. But they are part of the C&C Group (Tennent’s NI) portfolio. Tennent’s directors have even sat on their board in recent years. They are on the bar because a massive corporation used its muscle to put them there, crowding out smaller guys who don’t have a multinational partner.
The result? Estimates suggest nearly 89% of the draught beer market on this island is controlled by macro breweries or their partners. You might think you have a choice, but you’re mostly just choosing which multinational shareholder to pay.
The Wetherspoons Loophole
This is where Tim Martin changes the game. Wetherspoons isn’t a “Free House” in the traditional romantic sense (a nice old man who owns the building outright). It is a massive corporate chain. But structurally, it acts like the biggest Free House in the world.
Because they have massive capital, they don’t need a loan from Diageo to fix the roof. They don’t sign exclusive supply deals that ban guest ales. They are their own wholesaler.
They work with over 250 UK brewers. They can put a Thornbridge, a Tiny Rebel, or a Titanic Plum Porter on the bar because they answer to no one but themselves.
In a city where most publicans literally cannot sell you a local independent beer without breaching their contract, the big corporate chain is ironically one of the only ones with the freedom to pour what it wants.
The Cost of Cheap (Or: Why I Feel Guilty Drinking Here)
Before I sound like a total shill, let’s look at how that pint is £2.55. Tim Martin isn’t running a charity.
The model relies on aggressive bulk buying that squeezes margins for suppliers (though many small brewers admit the volume makes it worth it). More uncomfortably, it relies on a labour model that has historically been.. let’s say, controversial.
While Spoons pays above the bare minimum wage, they are hardly a workers’ cooperative. The “Spoon Strike” of 2018 highlighted issues with pay and union recognition that haven’t entirely gone away. You are getting a cheap pint because the system is optimised for volume over sentiment, and efficiency over staff comfort.
It’s not a moral victory. It’s just a ruthless business model that happens to benefit the beer drinker’s wallet.
The Honourable Exceptions (And Why They Still Cost £6)
Now, I can hear you screaming at your phone. “What about The Sunflower? What about The Deer’s Head?”
You’re right. There is a small, heroic resistance fighting the good fight, and they deserve your money if you have it.
- The Sunflower: A Belfast institution. No gimmicks, a security cage on the door, and a genuine commitment to independent beer like Kinnegar (often for a very reasonable fiver).
- The John Hewitt: Now managed by the legends at Boundary Brewing, meaning the money stays local and the taps pour actual Belfast-brewed liquid, not just whatever the rep from Diageo dropped off.
- The Deer’s Head: Belfast’s first modern brewpub. You can see the shiny tanks at Bell’s Brewery from the bar. They pour their own Black Bull Stout among other beers.
These places are vital. They are the soul of the city. But here’s the rub: even they can’t compete on price. They still have to pay Belfast rents, Belfast rates, and navigate the “Surrender Principle” without a corporate war chest. They charge £5.50-£6.00 not because they’re greedy, but because they have to just to survive.
Spoons charges £2.55 because it can. And for a lot of drinkers, that £3.00 difference is the deciding factor.
The “Surrender Principle” Trap
Here is where the Northern Ireland context makes this even weirder. Northern Ireland’s “Surrender Principle” means you can’t create new liquor licenses .. you must buy an existing one from someone else.
The going rate for a license is roughly £80,000 – £100,000. That’s before you buy a brick, a keg, or a glass. This stifles competition and stops the little guys from opening up.
But Tim Martin? He has the capital to bypass that barrier.
They make money on scale. Pure, terrifying scale. But in Belfast, where the average pint in a city centre bar is now flirting with £6.00, Spoons isn’t just cheap .. it’s a lifeline.
The Bottom Line
Look, I’m not saying The Bridge House is perfect. Tim Martin’s politics are.. well, let’s not go there. The carpets remain inexplicable.
But when you look at the Belfast market .. dominated by four giant companies, locked down by six-figure license fees, and choked by exclusive supply contracts .. Spoons starts to look less like the villain and more like a necessary evil.
It gets good beer to normal people at prices they can afford. It bypasses the macro-stranglehold.
Next time you’re walking down Bedford Street, maybe pop in. Get a pint of something real for less than three quid. Look around at the actual people drinking actual craft beer. Then ask yourself: in a city where choice is an illusion, is this really the enemy?
(Just don’t tell anyone I sent you. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.)
The Reality Check: If you drink a pint of “Local Craft” in a standard Belfast bar, check the pump clip. If it’s Whitewater (C&C distributed) or Open Gate (Diageo), you are drinking macro beer. Wetherspoons is one of the few places pouring 100% independent liquid and one the few places to get decent cask beer.