Bignjuicyville is about as far from the sea as it is possible to be in GB.
Consequently, the nearest thing we get to fresh fish is the stunted mutated grey tiddlers that cling to life in the nearby River Juicy, which runs brown for most of the year – being downstream of a toxic industrial estate and over fertilised farmland. Under educated youths pay for permits to fish this conduit of concern, hauling out any remaining tiddlers that haven’t been eaten by the local heron. Local eateries are therefore obliged to source their fresh fish from further afield and there are regular airlifts of antibiotically enhanced salmon, trout and blue whale which end up on the plates of discerning local diners. Local chippies, however, appear to source their supplies from yon babbling sewer, such is the foul odour which emanates when frying tonite. ‘Khalil’s Traditional English Fish n Chippery’, just down the road from here regularly fills the entire neighbourhood with clouds of rancid fat, pungently laced with fishy fragrance and unspeakable kebabiness. You’ll understand, then, why I have not partaken of the fine British Traditional Meal for many years. That and me being mainly a raving vegomatic n all. However, [and I warn all strict vegomatic readers that strong language is coming up], I occasionally do have cravings for fish and have been known to nibble on a crunchy cod or chew on a battered haddock from time to time. There, it’s out. I’m partial to smoked salmon too – but only if it’s nicotine free. For whatever reason – possibly a sense of impending death – I decided that it was time to taste once more the food of the gods and find the finest fish and chips that could be found in time for the celebration of my forthcoming official birthday. [Canons will be let off, honours will be handed out].
So it was that last night I dined within the precincts of a dodgy council estate in EC1. Fish Central, though technically in Islington, is about as far from sun dried polenta and rustic tuscan tonyblair balls as you can get. The patrons ranged from the visibly well heeled [discreet jewellery and expensive smart casual] through groups of geezers in for a pre-pub slap up – to extended families out for their weekly treat. It’s always a good sign when a restaurant is packed and this place has them queueing out the door. Happily, our reservation had been honoured so no waiting for us and we dined in style. Fish perfectly fresh – mine was in crisp batter, my companion opted for grilled – both perfectly cooked and accompanied by lashings of chips, which although right tasty, were not as crisp as I’d have liked em. Of course you can’t have fish and chips without a glass or two of champagne can you? So we bought a bottle of the house stuff which was truly excellent and very good value – I kid you not. The decor is cool pastels; bright clean and modern, the service was brisk and I thoroughly recommend a visit if you don’t fancy paying Jamie Oliver seven quid for beans on toast – his gaff is just down the road. Takeaway also available from the chippy next door.
Monkey business 1
Why was Alan Carr hanging around in the car park at Bignjuicy Central Railway station at 12.40am this morning – looking tired and emotional and who was his young blond companion?
Monkey business 2
Did Humans Mate With Chimps? And are we their offspring?
At last, GWB explained.