Jimi Famurewa reviews Crispin at Studio Voltaire: Weapons-grade sex appeal finds unlikely home in Clapham

Look, let’s not get into the specifics of how I ended up in a Clapham chain pub on a recent windblown Thursday.

Let’s not, if you don’t mind, fully examine the mostly benign proclivities (Premier League football, draught Guinness) that nudged me and a similarly afflicted mate towards the infernal heart of the big O’Neill’s by the Tube station. But, let me just say: if you were to imagine all the stereotypically unkind