Call me a restaurant-er. Well, actually, don’t. Because I’m not. And I don’t even know what that word means. If you’re going to call me anything, call me a dipshit, because that’s what I am and it’s what I will actually notice people have called me. So I took it upon myself to go around the local area of *AREA REDACTED AT REQUEST OF LEGAL TEAM* and review the local eateries, here is what I found.
A very lovely place with the only fault being the amount of people there. I went there with my family and friends of the family. They did have this sign in the window, which I managed to get a photo of:
So we all said we’d be getting something from the car and now we’re just hoping for the best. I had a chicken and bacon pasta but it had no bacon in and most of it was chicken. Basically I had a bowl of chicken in pasta sauce. Still quite nice, just not what I expected. They also had Pepsi instead of Coke.
A gorgeous eatery hidden next to the checkouts and toilets. The only place you can get a cup of Coke and a bacon and sausage sandwich for £2.60. Genuinely the food is quite nice, the atmosphere is the same as all supermarkets, which is to show you the depressing reality of buying tins of Heinz beans as you prepare for the impending apocalypse.
Eat fresh. Well, it’s not fresh really, it’s pre-made and you probably get it a few hours later or something like that I don’t know and I should probably end this sentence. I always get a steak and cheese, although I do have to be very careful as I am a vegan, so I eat around the cheese and steak, it’s still bloody lovely. Hearty Italian bread is delicious, but it is made of Italian hearts which is unfortunate as it means it’s high in calories.
Packaged Sandwich from Greggs
Nothing beats a packaged sandwich from Greggs. Well, apart from Chris Brown. But I do love a good sandwich. While it may be expensive at £2.10, an egg and ham salad sandwich is truly the pinnacle of sandwiches, other than Subway, and Asda, but it’s a good third choice in case the other two have burned down.
Now I didn’t actually get anything out of the burger van, Joseph did, but judging by the facial expressions he’d either really enjoyed the sandwich or had just discovered that he wont be getting deported. Either way a greasy burger that’ll give you food poisoning from a smoke fuelled box in the middle of a mall is an ideal eatery choice if you have a fucking death wish.
My Own Kitchen
High quality packaged food produced by yours truly. The finest of cooking was presented in this kitchen. With the chef (me) forgetting to turn the cooker on, thus leaving himself hungry for an extra half hour, in which time he stirred pasta that wasn’t even cooking. I wish I was making that up.
But that about wraps it up.