I remember back in the 1940's my grandfather lived in Chelsea(working class people lived there in those days) and had a next door neighbour with a horse and coster cart. These two would often go on the cart to a pub over Fulham way and both come back dead drunk. Sometimes my grandmother would go outside, hearing them return, and find them both asleep on the cart! The horse not only knew the way home it also knew to stop at red lights. Of course in those days the Fulham Road was practically deserted late evening, no trendy restaurants and wine bars and yuppies staggering about in the middle of the road shouting for taxis and no breathalysers of course.