Pubs in Britain are all-purpose venues, akin to public libraries, perhaps with slightly cleaner tap lines. Rather than twist itself trying to achieve some sublime ideal of Englishness that not even the English have time for, George & Dragon has for 30 years now swaggered into the something-for-everyone model: A sprawling front patio with abundant, almost performatively productive misters. Huge TVs playing Premier League or Yankees-Red Sox across from a rerun of Matthew Broderick’s “Godzilla.” High-backed wooden dividers along the red-curtained front windows, perfect for keeping conversations intimate. People play pool, people play cards and on Mondays, people belt out karaoke. On Tuesdays, you get $2 tacos; on Wednesdays, whiskey specials. But any night of the week can feel cozy with a kitchen this strong. It serves up the usual roster of pub standards (pasties, curries, fishes, chips, bangers, mashes) alongside a cornucopia of drafts and draft mixes, most with a Guinness base. If you stumbled into a pub in Bath or Ludlow or Heddon-on-the-Wall and Americanly ordered a hybrid Guinness-and-Budweiser, someone would toss you out on your arse. At George & Dragon, you ask for a Black & Trash, order the wings with a side of house-made ranch and start figuring out which Bowie song you’re about to butcher.