To live by the chicken and to die by the chicken - it's probably better than a sword. Or at least not as sharp. Unless it's a bird with a particularly large beak. But what evs. The birds they serve up at Nando's are a particularly fine bunch. Especially as they've been frame grilled and soaked in the delicious Nando's juice. But I'm preaching to the converted. Everyone knows how good Nando's is. Last Thursday I had what Time Out would describe as an "eating epiphany" by way of an adventure out of the E8 post code to the new shopping extravaganza that is Westfield. Everything in this joint is massive. Everything. But the Nando's there is summat else. According to rumour and hearsay, this is the biggest eaterie they own. You see it from some distance when you're leering past La Senza and got half an eye on the window of Primark. You have to approach the beast via escalator. But the journey through the crowds and shit shops is worth it. You get there and basically immediately cream your pants. I wasn't even hungry but still managed half a bird, the traditional two sides and numerous refills of coke.
When the Nando's staff came over to collect our plates of bones she had to double check that she could take them away. Her explanation? "Some of the customers just like to sit here with the bones for a bit. One woman got really angry when I tried to take them away even though she had finished eating."
Nando's. Props. That's just how good you are. Suck those bones dry...
A feast
A call to arms
