A passage under Catherine Street from the pub to the Theatre Royal, so that Charles II could reach Nell Gwyn unobserved. Probably.
Nell of Old Drury sits directly opposite the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, holds a 4.6 from three hundred and seventy-three people, and is the second pub in this survey named after Eleanor Gwyn.
We wrote about the first – the Nell Gwynne Tavern, down an alley off the Strand – and noted that she almost certainly never went in, and that the naming of London pubs after people who were never in them is a national industry.
This one has a better claim, and it has a tunnel.
The tunnel
The story is that there is – or was – a passage running under Catherine Street from the cellar of this pub to the Theatre Royal opposite.
And the purpose of the passage was that Charles II could cross from one to the other without being seen, in order to reach Nell Gwyn, who was performing.
It is a wonderful story. It is repeated widely. The pub is entirely happy for you to hear it.
And the Prat’s investigations desk, which has now spent three hundred and twenty articles taking these claims apart, would like to state its position: we cannot prove it and we cannot disprove it, the pub building is very probably later than Charles II, and we would very much like it to be true.
Nell
She sold oranges in the theatre. That is where she started – a girl in the pit, selling fruit to the audience, in a trade that was understood to involve rather more than fruit.
She became an actress at fourteen or fifteen, and she was, by every account, extremely funny – a comic actress with a genuine gift for timing, which was a far rarer thing on the Restoration stage than a beauty.
And she became the King’s mistress, and stayed one, and was liked – which is the remarkable part, because the court was full of women who were feared or resented, and Nell was popular.
When a crowd surrounded her carriage in Oxford believing she was the King’s Catholic mistress, she is said to have leaned out and told them: pray, good people, be civil, I am the Protestant whore.
The crowd cheered. She was never troubled again.
What she got
A house on Pall Mall – the freehold, which she demanded, on the grounds that she had always conveyed free under the Crown and would not hold the land on any other terms.
A dukedom for her son, which she is supposed to have obtained by dangling the boy out of a window and threatening to drop him unless the King gave him a title.
And Charles, dying, said: let not poor Nelly starve.
The pub
Small, dark, wood-panelled, ten to twenty pounds, and rammed at 7:15 with people who have a curtain to make – the same wave we have documented in twenty venues across both surveys.
Verdict
Excellent little pub. Go before the show. And ask about the tunnel, and enjoy the answer, and do not check it.
Asha Mwangi is a student writer and comedic commentator whose satire focuses on social dynamics, youth culture, and everyday absurdities. Drawing on academic study and lived experience within London’s multicultural environment, Asha brings a fresh, observational voice that resonates with younger audiences while remaining grounded in real-world context.
Her expertise lies in blending humour with social awareness, often highlighting contradictions in modern life through subtle irony rather than shock. Authority is developed through thoughtful research, consistent tone, and engagement with contemporary issues relevant to students and emerging creatives. Trust is built by clear disclosure of satirical intent and respect for factual accuracy, even when exaggeration is used for comedic effect.
Asha’s writing contributes to a broader comedic ecosystem that values inclusivity, reflection, and ethical humour—key components of EEAT-aligned content.
This is what The Spectator sounded like before it decided performance outrage was more interesting than precision.
Someone reading this thinking about moving out of London. Answer’s no, you’ll stay.