Wednesday 6 July 2011

Born under a bad bean



When you wake up on the floor of your front room still wearing last night's togs with a mouth like the backend of a bin, one's first thoughts usually turn to scran. And if it's not too late, that of the fried variety. Thankfully, a new joint has opened up almost within spitting distance of our gaff that does more than the necessary - if you want a roast, then our man can do it. If you're after fish and chips, he's gonna get on his knees and batter you a little pollock no matter what time of day it is. Kebab? - this fella has got the fucking doner meat t-shirt mate. However, if you're into baked beans, then you'd better go elsewhere. These ones were so bad they emerged from the kitchen wearing knuckle dusters lampooning your mum. No sir. Seek your beans elsewhere. We won't be making the same mistake twice.



Laughing over really bad beans. You've got to laugh...



That menu - it's a food zoo where everything's raw and wild...

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