Ask any newspaper, playwright, or Jonas brother, and they’ll tell you the same thing. Sex sells. That’s probably why Blacklock, a loud and proud steakhouse that boasts about being in a converted Soho basement brothel, was always going to be popular. It’s cool. It’s affordable. And as long as you don’t think too hard about the things these walls have seen, it’s a lot of fun. But really it’s the meat here - not that kind of meat, get your mind out of the gutter - that makes Blacklock one of those restaurants that you’ll visit time and time again.

From the moment you walk down the steps from the unassuming black entrance and smell the sirloin sizzling, you’ll know that this is a proper steakhouse. On the old industrial beams you’ll find all of the different cuts and chops handwritten in white pen, and which the servers will talk you through with a strange mix of David Gandy and Del Boy. On the wall opposite you’ll find a huge mirror with ‘let’s talk about chops, baby, let’s talk about you and meat’ written in blood red lipstick. If this doesn’t give you a clear picture of this Soho spot’s combination of serious and silly, then let’s just take a moment to appreciate the fact that a section of their menu simply reads ‘Steak Sarnie’. This sandwich is a sourdough brick full of tender hanger steak, bone marrow, and mustard. It is a beast of a thing. And more importantly, it’s a tenner. That makes it one of the most cheap and cheerful sit-down lunch options in this part of town.

Apart from the butchering of Salt-N-Pepper lyrics and knockout butcher’s cut sandwiches, Blacklock is also home to something that the British love far more than physical affection. A bargain. Particularly their ‘All In’ offer where you get pre-chop bites, flatbread, a side, beef, pork, and the highly chewable lamb skinny chops for a very casual 20 quid per person. Big group catch-up? Sorted. Working out the dinnertime location for your friend who’s on their sixth promotion and your other friend who survives purely on Bolt offers? Sorted. Strong classic drink? Also, totally sorted. The cocktails here are a fiver. By West End standards, that’s not just cheap. It’s a miracle. The kind of boozy blessing we really only thought we’d encounter if Danny Dyer became prime minister.

Sure, Blacklock has the obvious seduction of some delicious pig’s head on toast (hubba hubba), but basically, this Soho spot is a bloody good time. Think of it as your own très trendy, 21st century Moulin Rouge, but with a mean Sunday roast and within walking distance of the Central line. You can rock up here with dates, mates, and anyone else you know who is willing to get handsy with some bone marrow, have a steak, an affordable glass of on-tap red, a big, essential scoop of the chilli hollandaise and leave around £35 lighter. And really, that’s much better than sex appeal.