Okay, I know I’m going a little off-tangent here…

It’s not very “British” to complain about a bad retail experience. Well, us stiff-upper-lips might mumble to our chums, but remonstrating in the shop isn’t the done thing. It’s the sort of thing the French do, old bean…

(Well, that’s when they’re not eating horses, or holding the country to ransom over petrol and taxes, or striking in their airports….but, I’m digressing here….) Frankly, knickers to all that. Our Gallic brothers have got it right if you ask me. Viva La Revolution!

Which leads me on to the whole point of this (now becoming somewhat uninteresting!) post…

I am renowned in these parts of having somewhat of a cast iron (and rather large) constitution when it comes to junk food. For better of worse, I can polish off more E numbers than you’ve had hot dinners, and MSG scares, salt concerns, and superbugs are all just hype!! (Omega 3?? - what the fuck happened to black pudding??)

Anyway, on my travels in my Secret Agent Government Role, I ended up in Bedford town centre the other evening, waiting for a train back to Blunt Towers. Being somewhat peckish, I decided to visit a local takeaway establishment for a touch of nourishment. Being no stranger to such environments, I took the course of action of choosing somewhere that looked reasonably clean, and had people eating there. I figured that if other heads were in there then it couldn’t be that bad. Big mistake.

Now, the place looked clean enough, and the guy behind the counter was safe. Things were looking good. All I wanted was a portion of chips before heading off to the studio. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask in this day and age of airbags and ipods? - Guess again.

The dude handed me this bag of chips, and, without a word of a lie, they were the most off-key food product I’ve ever had the misfortune to smell. God Almighty. It was like they had been cooked in the contents of an Egyptian roadworkers spitoon. Having the so-called cast iron constitution I speak of, I decided to try one of them, to see if the smell was misleading. It wasn’t. I ate 3 of these “chips” and felt violently sick.

I still cant figure out what the hell they were cooked in. They looked alright, but that’s where it ended. There was some tramp out on the street, and I didn’t even bother to offer him my as-new portion of fries. I figured why let the man get sick on his own boots, when the poor fucker doesn’t even have another pair to change into? That would just be cruel.

Literally 12 hours later, a curry, and as much fluid as I could muster, and I could still taste these 3 fries of satan.
So, the whole point of this post. If you ever find yourself in Bedford Town Centre, Bedfordshire, UK, then do yourself a favour and stay away from Dixy Fried Chicken, 101 Midland Road Bedford, MK40 1BZ. It’s as simple as that.

While we’re talking food, there really is only one place to go for your soul food, and that’s Chicken George. But we haven’t got time to go into that here. That place’ll deserve it’s own special post!

Rant over.

M