British hospitality is in crisis. In the first quarter of 2026, three hospitality sites closed every day, while one in five remaining businesses fear collapse over the next year owing to rises in tax and employment costs. For venues struggling in London, there is added worry over stringent licensing rules and lobby groups making areas like Soho a ghost town after 11pm. Yet themed bars are bucking the trend. A Savills report found a 58% increase in 'competitive socialising' venue openings in 2025 compared with 2018, and a survey showed one in three UK adults visited such a venue in 2024-25. With younger generations drinking less but still wanting social spaces, I visited seven of London's most popular themed bars to see if they could be the future of nightlife.
Monday: The First Podcast Bar
Down cobbled streets in the City of London, a falafel shop hides a basement bar wired with microphones. The First Podcast Bar, open six months, is the brainchild of restaurateur Uri Dinay. 'I thought we'd make this basement into a pitta bread factory, but I invited friends and they wanted to ask me questions about my life, so I thought: why not make it into a podcast?' he says. On event nights, anyone can sidle up to the mic. I speak with him as a dozen friends and family eavesdrop. It's overstimulating: music thumps, people talk, and I feel everything I do will land on YouTube. Dinay reassures me: 'I have loads of footage of people being drunk and crazy – but I'd never publish it.' My friend, a therapist trainee, avoids cameras and microphones, saying: 'This feels like a disaster waiting to happen.' I leave with ringing ears and a sore throat, no closer to understanding why anyone would choose this over a quiet pint.
Tuesday: House Party
Founded by rapper Stormzy in 2024, House Party is a seven-storey glass-fronted building in Soho replicating a home party. I pay £15 to attend something I'd otherwise do for free. During the UK's hottest June on record and England playing Ghana in the World Cup, Soho is febrile. Air-conditioning blows through 1970s floral carpets and lurid wallpaper. A DJ plays ear-splitting mashups; drinks come in American red cups; karaoke starts in the bedroom; upstairs, a woman called 'Grandma' offers a blow on her vuvuzela – I decline. My friend and I find a quiet nook showing football, but we're kicked out by a corporate booking. Relegated to the basement, I realise this is the most authentic teenage house party experience: feeling unwelcome. Ben Floyd of hospitality consultancy Lumière says: 'People don't just want to go to the pub – they want something to do to socialise without centring on drink.' But there's nothing to do here – it's warped corporate nostalgia.
Wednesday: Alcotraz
Alcotraz, an immersive bar set in a prohibition-era prison, seems in poor taste. But what greets me in east London is a wildly successful idea by production company Inventive, which also runs Hexmoor. Alcotraz has seven locations in England. Customers don orange jumpsuits and are led into cells, where a bartender asks for allergy information. Sipping a coconut daiquiri, I see why venues where booze isn't the only focus appeal. A mixed crowd includes a school reunion, a mother and son from the US, and couples on dates. The interactive show features a Bible-bashing warden and an inmate attempting escape; we bond through fact-finding tasks. After four cocktails included in the £51 ticket, I leave tipsy. The Alcotraz website says it partners with the Innocence Project London, so part of the ticket helps people in actual prison.
Thursday: Ballie Ballerson
Ball-pit-themed Ballie Ballerson, founded in 2016, promises lurid cocktails and a mirrored room full of plastic balls – a thousand Instagram posts. Before visiting, I wonder how the balls stay clean. On arrival, the ball pit is a small corner of a low-lit bar. Groups sip caprisunhas served in plastic sacks. Co-owner George Armstrong says the venue capitalised on millennial nostalgia but has run into difficulties: 'The ball pit is a Trojan horse to get people in, but people are spending less money. Even if we could have later hours, we don't know if anyone would come. It's no longer fun running a fun business.' The ball pit is emptied and cleaned weekly by a machine nicknamed Gobblemuffin, revealing lost phones, keys, and three laptops over a decade. Armstrong says: 'No one can play it cool in a ball pit. It's a good shortcut to silliness. We get a lot of gen Zs who aren't as confident socialising or don't want to drink as much.'
Thursday, later: Coyote Ugly Saloon
Part of the franchise that inspired the 2000 film, Coyote Ugly Saloon has eight British venues. At its Camden outpost at 9pm on a Thursday, I find an alarmingly empty venue. A man with purple hair sings karaoke to Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights; a dancer in a bikini top sways. Ryan Chetiyawardana of Mr Lyan says: 'People want escapism beyond just a drink. In a more casual space without hospitality engagement, venues try to fill the experience with activities or theatrics, always looking for the next gimmick. Sometimes that can feel hollow.' As karaoke enthusiasts wail Adele's Hello, I feel hollow. The singers seem to have fun, but the 'saloon' theme adds little. My friend says: 'I'm finding it quite sad being here.' We leave shortly after.
Friday: Cahoots Postal Office
I head to the City of London searching for the Last Judgment pub's Footsie Fridays, where drinks are dynamically priced according to the stock market. I'm told the event isn't running during the World Cup. Instead, I go to Cahoots, a 1940s-themed brand with three London locations. At their Postal Office bar near Borough Market, a host informs us it's now 1946. Themed cocktails are listed on a newspaper menu, servers wear braces and bow ties, and drinks are whizzed through pneumatic tubes. Sipping a Josephine Baker, looking at the packed room of couples, I see the appeal of low-key escapism: the theme provides a topic of conversation and an added bonus to the expense of going out.
Saturday: Hijingo Bingo
After a week of bar-hopping, I need a detox, but the most overwhelming venue remains: bingo-themed bar Hijingo. The east London branch's indeterminately Asian-themed entrance is rammed with stags, hens, and birthday parties. Inside, giant flashing screens, dancers, and prosecco flow as numbers are called. The decor seems worryingly orientalist, and it's hard to concentrate with dance-offs, but the performers' energy is infectious. Danielle Shaw, celebrating her 25th birthday, says: 'It seemed like something new and fun. As a larger Black woman, I don't always feel welcome in pubs. A place like this lets us be loud.' The crowd is surprisingly diverse. I've learned that while hospitality struggles, people still want to go out – they just need the right places. As for me, I'm not sure my ears or adrenaline could cope with a return visit. Club duvet now awaits.
