Two pints and a chip buttie for under £4 at popular reopened pub? See how it's done

Greene King has refurbished The Bear Tavern, Bearwood, and on a recent trip to try out the menu I was impressed when a member of staff told us how to get a free drink.

If you download the Greene King Sports app, there is a free drink on registration.

However, it does not include the 'three Baby Guinness for £5' deal - I know, we asked.

But, when so often left out of the free drink voucher booklet, on account of it being the greatest liquid invented, Guinness was poured at no cost to me.

Other drinks on the list included Aspall cider, Madri, San Miguel and other lagers as well as John Smith bitter. So after my lady had been served her Moretti we were nearly £10 down before we started.

But what about the scran?

Well, the new menu had plenty of offers, and had more choice and cheaper than the Greene King pub in Birmingham city centre - well, President Clinton did have a pint at the Malthouse after all.

Legend has it, CIA bodyguards smashed the Big Dog of Arkansas's pint glass after he necked an Amber Necta.

Whereas the Bear had Frank Skinner, before and after he quit the booze.

The menu felt it had been put together by a focus group, full of people who go to the pub between 2pm and 7pm and go home. However, that's not a criticism: a menu full of pub classic dinners, all scraping in under £12, not including the steaks, is better than a chef who has fluffed his lines on TV.

Build your own burgers, lasagna, various chickens in various stages of undress and pies, slices of pie and even corned beef hash pie.

When I worked in Fleet Street, London, there was a Greene King pub called The Prince of Wales. And if flush, which was rare in the capital, I'd get a sausage and mash, and with a Guinness would top £20.

Lording it in London seemed a world away, especially as my speciality in pubs and restaurant is the impromptu filling meal created from side dishes.

In Scotland, a nation known for its value for money lifestyle, they order peas and gravy together at Wetherspoons for cheap tea.

They know there is no point swerving somewhere just because your pals are on the big bucks.

Just be disciplined, and turn into Captain Crazy if some melt, who you saw order shots before the bread had even had time to expand in your stomach, says: "Yah, let's just just split the bill equally."

Have a ready reply: "Look pal, I've seen what you've put down your cakehole, I had a Black Country Tea, which cost under £4 on the sides menu."

And at The Bear you would have struck gold. Because there the on sides menu, too far from each other to be a couple, but near enough to create that frisson of excitement when they meet:

Chips: £2.79

Two slices of bread and butter: £1.19

And I had the choice between white and brown, but as life has not defeated me just yet, I went for white. Sliced from a Bloomer, no less.

The boffins at the Greene King Sports app have missed a trick, because the Bear is the closest of their pubs to the birthplace of Steve Bloomer.

Born in Cradley, Bloomer was a marauding Derby County striker who was given the brilliant nickname The Destroying Angel as he broke scoring records for England in the 1920s, The Bloomer Chip Buttie would be a fitting tribute to the man who Derby fans still sing about.

And the butter was butter, not the Third Reich's favourite dairy substitute, margarine.

The Bearwood Road pub was packed, with all kinds of ages, colours and labels, and thankfully the bar ran like clockwork. There is bar and table service.

The manager has been at The Bear Tavern for 17 years and has gone through more breweries than Bearwood pensioners have had hot dinners on seniors' day.

She was hungover, it was her fella's birthday the night before so she would not join us for a top-up.

I noticed the welcome sign dripped with sarcasm: "Hello Smethwick Bearwood Welcome to your Local."

Greene King's London press office was so excited about the pub's reopening it had a bad case of the Cradley and Cradley Heath mix-up.

And the calamity had made it on to Facebook. "Popular Birmingham pub, The Bear Tavern, Smethwick."

Ouch. Only two name places but wrong three times - The Bear Tavern is not in Birmingham, it's Sandwell and not in Smethwick, but the clue is in the name, Bearwood.

I suppose if you are in London we are talking 100 metres' difference on both sides, but if you have scrimped and saved to buy a house in the Moseley of Sandwell, Bearwood, it is not a laughing matter.

"There was outrage on Facebook," said the manager with all the weariness from apologising for the same thing, over and again.

When the door to the refurbished pub swung open, the couple were delighted, but I did not get to ask if their flat upstairs also had the same IKEA vs faux fur treatment.

By the time our meals came I had totally forgot I had ordered the Cumberland sausage, which to be fair, looked a little skinny, and I'd have preferred three separate bangers, all bursting their skins instead of a curly wurly.

But the Yorkshire pudding it came on was a surprise. But it could have had an image of Elvis burnt on the crust and I'd still have had an all-consuming desire to try my creation, my chip buttie.

There were other chips on the menu, but I respect the chip enough to be satisfied with potato flavour without feeling the need to add cheese, chilli or whatever the latest fad is.

For the perfect chip buttie, the chips need to be clean, and not dirtied with any other food.

The chips arrived in a dish, more than enough for the butties and some to be dipped in ketchup or mayo. The bread was already sliced so the creation could be made.

And consumed. Those three flavours, together, create a culinary combination of perfection. As a whole, the chip buttie is greater than the sum of its parts.

Bread, butter and chips.

Salt, vinegar and sauces are optional but not needed.

But the best accompaniment to a chip buttie?

Free beer!