Long week-end (part III)

Feeling like a juvenile eegit for not realising that one beautiful day does not a summer make, i headed down the river in search of something to eat

It has to be said here, that my own personal peché mignon is, always has been, and always will be, a good old fashioned chicken kebab (which has been left out to congeal on the counter in the baking sun all day, at no extra price) with fries .. i'm capable of trudging kilometres to get a decent one

I do confess, dear solitary reader with a gastronomic heart, i ceded to the most basest, crassest and unholiest of temptations ..

The hunger pains were *that* bad

Against the better judgement of all ...

I flanched...

For on the horizon i spied ...

The french equivalent of

The golden arched one that is M** ******'s

strike me down oh lord of la bonne bouffe

I've not been to one of those joints for many years ( mrm any one ? ) and instantly remembered why

I was served with the most grimmest, mankiest, mingingest, gloopiest, sleasiest, skankiest of salads that has ever blessed the eyes of mankind ... a 'salad' that would force any vegeterian to make the choice between rancid et fetid houmous, a bacon sandwich or death - i know what i'd choose (oink oink)

A few weeks ago, Italien sandwich makers would've been consternated to see their competitors throwing such delicate morcels unto the streets of an uncleansed Rome

I will charitably pass over the abomination that was the wilting and unsalted 'fries'