Who can forget that cult film from the 1970s, The Land That Time Forgot, starring Doug McClure, Keith Barron and Susan Penhaligon?

It always seemed to get an airing during every school holidays when I was a lad, along with Jason and The Argonauts, 30,000 Leagues Under The Sea and The Poseidon Adventure.

You know the story: A German U-Boat sinks a British vessel during World War One and takes a small band of its crew as prisoners. The U-Boat takes a wrong turn and, before they know it, they’re stranded in a long- forgotten time and have to battle the odds to return to the present day.

Little did I realise I would have a similar adventure when I tentatively pushed the door ajar then edged into The Coach and Horse in Carshalton last week. As the door swung shut behind me I instantly felt like I had entered another world.

Sadly for me, Carshalton’s answer to McClure, Barron and Penhaligon had gone AWOL, leaving me at the mercy of the assembled dinosaurs and Neanderthals who propped up the bar, as well as some odd little red-faced rapscallions lurking in the corners who seemed to scowl and sneer at me as I bravely broke into my stride.

To calm my fears I opted for a pint of Hobgoblin. Made by Oxfordshire’s Wychwood Brewery, Hobgoblin is marketed as the unofficial beer of Halloween and it certainly helped take my mind off some of the rather fearsome looking beer monsters around me, but enough of this fantasty world.

The Coach and Horses does have some undeniable charm about it. The shiny green bricks on the outside help give the pub a welcoming feel but the less said about the pale green painted outer walls, the better. Hideous.

Stained glass windows helped to add a splash of colour, the wooden beams have a fine array of jugs, tankards and other drinking vessels hanging from them and, rather strangely, the walls are adorned with clocks, lots of clocks. Still, it lends character to the place and I’m all for that.

It was a nippy night when I popped in and I was pleased to see not one, but two roaring fires on the go. A small band of punters who looking like balding hobbits congregated around them after braving the outdoors for a fag.

Their laughter and lung-busting coughing punctuated the sixites sounds provided by such tracks as the worryingly entitled The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Here Anymore by The Walker Brothers.

Someone was trying to tell me something. So with that in mind I siftly made my escape from the pub that time forgot. Doug McClure would have been proud.

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How the pub rates (out of five):

Decor: XX It’s certainly got character. If you like clocks then this is the place to be.

DRINK: XX It was a murky and cold evening, just right for a pint of Hobgoblin. Marston’s Pedigree and Broadoak were also available as well as the usual selection of lagers.

PRICE: XX £3.20 for Hobgoblin was a bit on the pricey side.

ATMOSPHERE: XXX It reminded me of the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. You know the one. Han Solo and Chewbacca stopped off there for a jar once. Google it.

STAFF: XXX The young guy who served me was helpful despite being rushed off his feet.