The food was good but at 30 quid a head we were paying too much for what was on affer.
A white Rioja has enough beef to brighten up my conference pasted consciousness and we have a jolly enough time for £20 a head. Thanks Joe.
The Marais has some jewels - especially the Musée de la Chasse et Nature (also bereft of vittles) - but you have to pay for them in the tedium of expensive crapshops, chainshit and a swarm of arseholes, some on scooters.
Kudos to the guy in the Uruguayan rugby shirt for surprise outfit of the day.
Enough savagery. The Chablis was excellent, as was the service. In fact Glasgow sets a high standard for service in the UK, from King Tut's to the Cathedral front of house was professional to the core.
Having watched Granit Xhaka and his inept chums only just fail to sabotage a fine attacking display by Arsenal's front five in a lunchtime kick off by the time we'd reached the food part of our post-match festivities in Winchmore Hill stomachs were empty but we were bonhomie full.
Trying to remember the prices of the food (a key part of a review being the price/quality quotient) I looked at the JB's website to find that they weren't as high as I recalled. But I also discovered atrocious grammar and an insidious whiff of nostalgia-laden commercial bullshit in the copy.
Reminiscent of 1920’s nostalgia and times gone by; a charming spot to wait for your train to Paris whilst soaking up the iconic atmosphere of The Grand Terrace.
Were one of mys students to have written this guff I would have been forgiving of youthful lapses in grammar, syntax, honesty and style. The misplaced apostrophe, the redundant semi-colon, the appearance of the hideous 'i' word, and the frankly idiotic use of the word charming to describe a 'spot' usually inhabited by drunks of varied income and states of dishevelment.
Ah but that 1920's (sic) nostalgia! Who wouldn't yearn for the days of chronic unemployment, Armenian genocide, the rise of fascism and sterile, bat-dominated cricket? Really they could have gone much further back for the authentic whiff of nostalgia. Their toilets need no linguistic gloss, being truly mediaeval most of the time.