Again. And again. With Aidsy cacti.
But Nando’s sucks arse, eh? Copious amounts of vile, putrid arse. More than MTN, Hotloaf pizzas, al shaworms and Harry Sagara thrown into a manic blender with a tongue in it’s cheek. I’d never have found myself there in the first place if a certain Stray Bird hadn’t lured me with promises of things *ahem-ish* and shopping. She said she’d buy me stuff and also alleged that all writers who’d lunched with in the past her somehow found themselves jizzing best sellers days later.
How they sucked. Their technique:
With enthusiasm and flair, nandos mouthed many shades and genres of restaurant butt that day from their hiccup-y service to their napkinlessness, their watered down tomato sauce to their soda . The only soda i’ve taken that tastes like ntula is mirinda apple but i swear the fanta tasted like ntula juice.
The stubs that were supposed to be chips (all 15 of them) were coated with a thick brown crust that looked suspiciously like sun-dried mucus. Their chicken, nay, nauseating-pieces-of-miserable-dead-bird had disturbingly undercooked bits. It was oily, bland, raw, gross, hell nobody wants their chicken medium rare!!!
All I gained from this culinary and psychological spit-trip was a cursing relapse (I let my potty mouth lose on the waiters) and a deep deep appreciation for wandegeya chips.
Also, Stray Bird lied. She didn’t give me anything ahemish*, jus a weakish hug and when i tried to write that night, my imp spewed a few lines of bland nonsense and went back to sleep. Frussom!
For realz people. Nandos sucks. Nobody go there.
P.s. I’m not fighting the good fight alone. http://www.boycottnandos.com/