Restaurants

Let the refined palette of Sir Humphrey Corfield-Carr, Blatant Doom Trip’s resident food critic, guide you through a selection of the finest dining establishments:

Little Chef

For starters, I enjoyed a simply divine Freddo bar, which I consumed in my Ford Mondeo while travelling to the eatery. Once seated, I ordered a vat of 2011 vintage Diet Pepsi,  to accompany my main course of ‘le sausage et chips’. To my, not entirely unpleasant surprise, the sausage carried with it the distinctive, strong taste of cow brains, asbestos and weedkiller. This proved a thrillingly light and fresh sensation, a flavour combination perfectly complimented by the translucent garnish of chef’s saliva that adorned the accompanying (blissfully not defrosted properly) oven fries. Sadly, the post meal complimentary lollipop was only middling – too harsh and brittle on the tongue, too grainy for the palette, but having just enjoyed a bordering-on-poisonous meal for £1.99, whilst overlooking the soaring vista of a rain sodden motorway layby through filthy windows, one was not in a position to protest too heartily.

The bins around the back of Aldi

Set in the picturesque surroundings of a windswept concrete car park, the ‘bins around the back of Aldi’ eatery would certainly be a ideal locale for first dates. Therefore, it seemed only fitting that, having lowered myself into the restaurant, I was required to ‘get romantic’ with ‘the waiter’ in exchange for a half-eaten pork pie and a bag of dog biscuits. I would also strongly advise ordering a bottle of the unspecified grey liquid that has accumulated at the bottom of the bin, it possesses a quite magnificent full bodied flavour. Afterwards, as I lay in a pool of my own urine digesting, a number of youthful observers approached the restaurant and instructed myself and the other patrons to “fight for coins”. Which we did. Strongly recommended.

Bothwell service station public toilets

My wife accompanied me on this trip, and we were both immediately impressed by Bothwell’s chic interior design. Obscene grafitti was scrawled across the filthy tiles, scraps of toilet paper caked with suspicious solids littered the floor, and a Nigerian gentleman with towels watched us from the corner of the room. Happily, such attention to detail extended to the food too. Our starter, a rather exquisite serving of sanitising handwash that one consumed by simply ‘pumping’ the dispenser while crouched beneath it, mouth agape, was just the beginning. With a constant supply of lukewarm tap water to hand, our mains were, frankly, magnificent. A sumptuous, moist urinal cake, best enjoyed by placing one’s face inside the trough while a member of staff provided a ‘golden shower’ garnish, particularly delighted both my wife and I. Dessert was human faeces.

Verdict: Sir Humphrey Corfield-Carr gives all three of these restaurants one million zillion Michelin stars each.

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