She picked up a frisbee of Yorkshire pudding and dropped two chunks of mashed potato into it with a dull thud. Sausages which looked like anatomical tribal warfare trophies followed, then a lump (literally) of gravy.
On sitting down, I realised that the Yorkie had to be torn by hand - cutlery was useless. The potato was semi-raw and barely mashed: my fillings had problems with the nuggets of raw potato hidden in the cold mash. The only thing lumpier than the mash was the gravy, which was clearly dredged from the bottom of a particularly polluted canal.
The piéce de résistance was the sausages. They looked like they'd spent too long on a sunbed - chocolate brown and clearly deep-fried. The only way to separate the crunchy outsides (impossible to cut into or chew) was to jam one fork through the crust, then employ a second fork to scrape out the barely-cooked 'meat' from the insides. The effort was wasted: the taste was similar to a discarded flip-flop coated in penguin guano. I managed two mouthfuls before giving up, gnawing disconsolately on the Yorkshire pudding in the same way Captain Scott tucked into his shoes towards the end. Next time I'm there (Thursday), I shall bring my own shoes and get them to put them in fryer. At least I know where they've been.
4 comments:
Perhaps the staff need to gain some McQualifications.
Next time you're there why not try a special from Mr Sizzle? Ask locally and he'll probably be lurking somewhere. Last time I had one of those, when I was about 11, a thief got caught outside Marks & Spencers after a thrilling 10 yard chase.
I'll bear that in mind for tomorrow.
I was impressed by Walsall Police force's Signing Officers, who were in action near the station yesterday. Clearly the deaf community plays a full part in Walsall's criminal fraternity.
Emma: welcome back, we've missed you. Very witty.
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