Food Poisoning


There are some basic un-written rules of life that just shouldn’t be messed with. The first one is that if a pub does food, it should go without saying that one of the items in the menu will be “fish ’n’ chips”.

Pubs and fish ’n’ chips are both British institutions so it makes sense that where you find one, you’ll find the other. That turns out to be true just about anywhere in the world except in of all places, Britain. That’s because a lot of British pubs have become a Toby Carvery. I HATE the Toby Carvery.

If I go out for a meal out, I want THEM to bring the food to ME! At the Toby Carvery, you have to stand in a queue holding your empty plate and wait your turn for a bloke wearing a chef’s hat to saw off pieces of meat and dole it out. That’s how they serve food in prison!

I accidentally found myself in a Toby Carvery this week. The first thing I noticed was how old everyone was. Strangely, being half the age of the people around me, didn’t make me feel young, it had the opposite effect.

I sat down and asked for fish ‘n’ chips. I got the kind of “No!” that a father gets when he asks his teenager daughter for a dance at a wedding.

Instead of going for the roast beast of the day, I checked the menu and found a grilled salmon. I asked if I could have it with chips and was told they don’t do chips but I was allowed to help myself to roast potatoes and vegetables from the carvery. The fish turned up on an otherwise empty plate. That meant that even though I’d got them to actually bring me some food, I still had to queue up with the geriatric inmates.

When the waitress came over later, she should have altered what she said slightly and asked, “Is ANYTHING alright?”

Craic on!

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