The Restaurant Critic
I will come to your fine restaurant
And order the food that I want,
But I really can't stand
Your elaborate plans;
I wish that I could but I can't.
I want a white, circular plate,
Not a breadboard, a shoe or a slate!
I will not drink drinks
Out of jam jars or sinks
And the test tubes will just have to wait.
The music in here makes me stressed;
I can feel it vibrate through my chest.
I don't like U2,
I can't hear myself chew
So could you please give it a rest?
Just do as I want when I ask it –
And don't put my chips in a basket!
It slips out the holes!
We just need a bowl –
I'll bring my own one if you ask me!
I've had it with all of your games
Like giving the loos 'funny' names.
A hind or a buck?
I just don't give a fuck –
If my bladder bursts, you'll be to blame!
Could someone please get me a chair?
Or I'll take my custom elsewhere.
Who eats on a sofa?
This ain't bikram yoga!
This whole thing is such a nightmare!
And then, there's the handwritten menu,
The peerless nadir of this venue.
You cannot spell 'soup'
With two Ys and a Q
I'm certain it cannot be rescued.
These servers are so bloody rude!
I think one of them spat in my food!
The chicken is sticky
It's cold and it's icky
I feel like my mouth has been glued!
And, proving that life isn't fair,
They booted me out on my ear!
I'm just mortified,
And I cannot think why:
It's the best place I've been to in years!
|This happened to me yesterday! FFS!!!|