No pub crawl in the UK can compare to that done in Prague. First of all, it's cheap. Everyone know's it's cheap. But when you're paying 55p a pint (22Kc) it really hits home how cheap it is. Secondly, not only can you buy more, but you can also drink more. The lager over there is nowhere near as gassy as it is in the UK; it has a whole lot more flavour; and it doesn't get you drunk as quickly. I pity the fool buying 500ml Stella in Prague for £2.10 when you can buy 500ml tasty Pilsner Urquell for a quarter of the price.

Third, you don't need to go to the toilet as often (probably tied into the fizziness factor), so that gives you less queueing time and more drinking time, as well as not having to find the bogs in every other place you visit. Four - there's an absence of fruit machines in 95% of the pubs, so you spend less there as well (unless you go to the shite casinos....). Five - you don't have to walk for a mile to buy a manky kebab that costs a fiver. Instead, there are sausage stations every 50 yards along the high street, where you can get a hotdog for 75p (although the quality is still dubious)

We were out there from Friday night to Tuesday, and ended up have a huge session on the Satuday - where between us we must have topped 100 units - certainly more than's been done in one session before. Amazingly we survived (although I was fuelled by Anadin, Diet Coke and Liptonice tea all through the next day, and physically couldn't touch another beer for 36 hours afterwards...) Touristy photos will be over in the Gallery, but here's the crawl:

Feeling good after a few beers the previous night, we headed over to the Vysehrad Fortress to do some touristy stuff. Come 11am the pubs were starting to open, and we managed to walk past three before surcoming to a small local, which was doing Pilsner Urquell at 25Kc (60p). After finally managing to get across to the rather gruff, traditionally dressed Czech barman that we wanted two beers (Dva Pivo, prosim), I somehow managed to offend him by saying thankyou. My Czech "thankyou" (Dequi or something) had a similar effect on pretty much every barperson and shopkeeper we met, and it wasn't until we got chatting to some locals at the end of the day that I found out my poor pronouciation probably meant I'd been calling them all wankers....live and learn.

After a leasurely half-litre from a funky handled Pils Urquell glass that weighed more than it's contents, we continued up to the fortress and stopped off for a quick Krusevice in the restaurant at the top, with it's inflated 50Kc price tag (still only £1.20 though) After an astonishing amount of walking and a suprisingly efficient tube trip (for a mere 20p for 4 stops), we made it into the Boulder Bar off Wencesles Square. Knackered, we stayed for a few pints - sampling Staropramen Lezak 12 and Staropramen Cerny 11 - the latter of which was nice, dark and stouty (although it took a while to convince the barman I really did want a beer that wasn't lager) Coming in at 60-75p/500ml, we decided to stay for a couple. It was then that I remembered the two spiritis that I was determined to try whilst out there - Borovicka (75p/40ml) - a Czech firewater which literaly numbs your lips, and Slivovice Budik (£1.30/40ml) - a plum brandy which numbs your brain.

Buzzing, it was deemed appropriate to avoid booze for a short time to regather ourselves, so we headed up to the national museum, where all the funky geological samples suddenly became more interesting than they should be. A trip back to the hotel, then offski for food. At the bottom of Wencesles Square we found U Panasku - a traditional restaurant, serving really top quality Czech cuisine. I opted for garlic, slow roasted pork with plenty of potato and bread dumplings and sauerkraut - which was top notch, washed down with three pints of house Pivo.

Satiated, we headed to Rocky O'Reilly's. If you're ever stumped on where to drink, having travelled a thousand miles to get away from the UK, why not go to an Irish Bar? The logic still escapes me. Surrounded by English rugby/stag do/hen party revellers, with the odd American and Irishman, we got ourselves another three Pilsner Urquell before making an exit. Not least because there was no way the toilets could be used, as someone appeared to have stood on the toilet seat before depositing their guts from a height of 4 foot above it. Of course, every pub has it's redeeming feature, and Rocky's was it's barmaids. I've never seen so many pair of perfectly formed puppies - all shrink wrapped into the T-shirts of fit Czech girls and paraded past the table every 30 seconds. Worth going just for that (plus the atmosphere's really good in there as well)

Wandering up the high street, the pull of the flashing lights outside one of the casinos proved too much. Getting myself a G&T and a stash of change, we headed for the roulette table. Only to find out that whilst the owner was more than happy for you to throw your money away into their shite fruit machines, you weren't allowed to play roulette without a passport. And there wasn't even any blackjack or poker on the cards. Feeling narked, we downed the drinks and headed out (avoiding the local drunk teenager with his pair of gypsy ladies, who looked unhappy at continually losing on the rigged arcade version of Texas Holdem.)

To try out a supposedly legendary place we popped into the Sports Bar, which was empty apart from two hustlers on the electronic roulette (where you appeared not to be able to win actual money, but just accumulated points) and the barman. A quick pint of Pivo and out.

Determined to get some more quality, cheap beer before going back to the hotel, we stumbled across the Darts pub, off the top of the Square. Back onto a Staropramen substitute, we supped on four more pints, stopping occassionally to play electronic darts with the locals (where I don't think a single dart went into the board); I emptied all of my change into the jukebox (subjecting the pub to an eclectic mix of Iron Maiden, Madness, Robbie Williams and dance music); and going on a mission to pull the only badly-English-speaking Czech girl in the bar. Things went downhill from here - with G&Ts flowing, and a good few more Borovickas. Got chatting to a Spanish guy who was staying in the hostel down the road, although Mr T's opening line of "You're Spanish? I hate the Spanish" was rapidly circumnavigated by launching into general Europhobic ranting by everyone, including Spanish guy.

Feeling suitably anihilated, and wondering what to do about Czech girl, I got myself a final Borovicka. Whilst standing at the bar, the huge Czech bloke next to me uttered the fatal word "Gypsy". I looked clearly confused. "Gypsy" he repeated, nodding at non-so-Czech-anymore girl. If there's one thing the Czech hate more than anything, it's gypsies. Suitably so by the sounds of it - the gypsy women approach you on the high street and say "blowjob", then if you're stupid enough to accept, take you into an alley where her brothers/uncles suitably rob you of anything of value. Fearing the worst, I ran. Well, stumbled, out of the bar, shouting back my thanks (although in my unright state of mind, I did this in almost fluent German) - and joined Mr T on the trek back to the hotel and 12 hours of unconciousness.

As an addendum, here's the top 10 things that might kill you in Prague:

1) Trams
2) Cobbles
3) Wide roads, crazy Czech drivers, and no road markings
4) Filthy saveloys from the Square food stands
5) Steak tartare (raw meat and egg yolk do not mix well with a hungover stomach)
6) Gypsy disease
7) Cars randomly driving through pedestrianised areas
8) Stray giant Afghan hounds being chased by armed police through Wencesles Square
9) Climbing 300 steps to get to the top of the Prague Castle viewing tower
10) Alcohol poisoning