Stepping into this bohemian bar is like falling into a friendly fever dream
Inside Hobo Kiosk(Image: Colin Lane/Liverpool Echo)
Step off Jamaica Street and down the stairs, and suddenly the city’s noise disappears – replaced by laughter and the clink of glasses in the strangest little pub in Liverpool. Hobo Kiosk is less a bar and more a portal into a parallel universe.
Descend the steps and you’ll find yourself in what feels like a living scrapbook. The furniture looks like it’s been gathered from a dozen past lives, united only by the fact that nowhere else would suit them better. Lamps, mugs, paintings, and signed posters of local musicians jostle for space on the walls. Every object seems to have a tale, and together they form a pub that’s half art installation, half friendly fever dream.
Running the show are Delia and Tristan Brady-Jacobs, a husband-and-wife team who met at the Everyman Bistro back in the early 1980s – that golden era when people still talked to strangers and the word “hipster” hadn’t been invented.
Delia is the gravitational pull that keeps Hobo Kiosk orbiting. She greets regulars by name, remembers everyone’s drink, and somehow manages to make new visitors feel like they’ve wandered into a family reunion they didn’t know they were invited to.
Tristan’s just as much part of the magic – all smiles, quick jokes and easy conversation. He’s the kind of person who makes you feel like you’ve known him for years, even if you’ve only just ordered your first pint.
Between them, they’ve built a place where community isn’t a slogan – it’s the house policy.
HOBO Kiosk(Image: Colin Lane/Liverpool Echo)
The clientele are as eclectic as the décor. Artists, writers, musicians, and those gloriously unclassifiable types who simply don’t fit anywhere else gather here. “Misfits” might be the word, but it feels too harsh – these are people who’ve found their fit in not fitting in. And that’s the magic of Hobo Kiosk: you can’t finish a pint without being drawn into a conversation with someone unexpected, that goes somewhere unexpected.
Speaking of pints, the beer selection punches far above its weight for a pub the size of a large living room. Most of it comes from local independent breweries, and there’s always something worth trying.
The soundtrack leans on jazz, which suits the atmosphere perfectly – free-flowing, unpredictable, and deeply human.
Each table comes with a printed list of house “rules,” but don’t worry – it’s not the joyless sort. Think less “school detention” and more “guidelines for a better evening out.”
When you finally emerge, blinking, into the buzz of Jamaica Street – one of Liverpool’s liveliest and most creative areas – you’ll realise just how rare a place like Hobo Kiosk really is. In a city increasingly polished for Instagram, this underground hideaway remains gloriously rough around the edges.
Hobo Kiosk isn’t trying to be cool. It’s too busy being genuine. It’s small, it’s strange, it’s stuffed full of stories – and if you go once, you’ll probably end up a regular.
Just don’t expect to leave without making a new friend, or at least a new anecdote.