The "eat your way around the world in London" collective set off with the best of intentions last night. Unfortunately a stiffener in the William Morris turned to two then three etc. and we ended up in the Spice of Raj. I could have written that up as Bangladeshi I guess, but that is not really in the spirit of the campaign.
There's always next week.
It reminds me of an old Ben Elton joke about soft drugs leading to hard drugs; if you drink enough lager, you will go on to Kentucky Fried Chicken.
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