No matter where you go in Stratford-upon-Avon you’ll inevitably trip over a piece of history - or a broken paving slab, and a lot of those are pretty historic too - and the chances are it will have a Shakespearean, or at least a theatrical, connection.

Take the pubs for instance.

Most pubs in the town are long established, with many going back to Shakespeare’s time, some even have regular drinkers who look as if they go back to Shakespeare’s time, with others who should, just for the sake of the noise levels.

Perhaps the most famous is the Dirty Duck (or Black Swan, depending which way you approach it, or stagger from it) which is just down the road from the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, and has been an actors watering hole for over a century.

The walls of the small nicotine stained Public Bar - they had it repainted a couple of years ago with a special paint that looks nicotine stained, honestly - are covered in signed photographs of famous actors, most of whom are long dead, with others who should be when you consider some of the work they’ve been doing recently.

Go into the place on a cold winter’s evening around eight and the bar will be empty with the inevitable exception of a charming middle-aged couple who’ve had a lovely day out visiting the Shakespeare houses and are really looking forward to seeing the play they bought tickets for three months ago which actually started thirty minutes earlier when they were ordering their drinks. When they realise the time they leave in such a hurry they invariably leave either a coat, or umbrella, or a Jester’s Hat ( bought for a ridulous price at the Birthplace Gift shop) behind.

And you can imagine their noisy, apologetic entrance at the theatre a few minutes later as they look for their very expensive seats in the stalls.

“ I’m so sorry.”

“ I do beg your pardon.”

“ Ooops, was that your foot? So sorry.”

Of course the actors continue gamely as if nothing has happened, but can feel the words retreating at an alarming rate.

It has been a near perfect day for our couple. And of course the last little hiccup will be all his fault.

The Dirty Duck used to be the only pub in town that had a late licence - to accommodate the RSC actors, and their hangers-on - now just about every pub, and bar in Stratford stays open until the early hours, with the added attraction of a good fist fight if you’re really lucky.

But if you want to spot an actor you’ve never heard of, or a couple you think you recognise ( the Dame Judi Denches of this world go home for a nice cup of tea) then park yourself in the bar and listen:

” I swear if that twat of an assistant stage director comes anywhere near me again I shall stab him with me rapier. I mean who does he think he’s talking to?”

And so on, and on, and on…

One of the most easily recognisable photos in the bar is that of Peter O’Toole who had quite a reputation back in the early 1960s as something of a ‘roaring boy’ when it came to drinking at the Dirty Duck. In other words he got totally rat arsed just about every night after the show, and fell over a lot. This behaviour naturally embarrassed the theatre’s governors to such an extent that Peter Hall had to order O’Toole to stop boozing and take up drinking milk instead. Yes, milk. There’s a photo of him doing just that in The Daily Mail of July 1960. Mind you he’s still holding a fag between his fingers.

It was all a load of baloney of course, with his usual pint of Guiness just out of camera shot, and the Great O’Toole just took more care not to trip over a broken piece of history on his way home.

Steve Newman