Chicken for chickens

You know those films where the credits are as funnier – or funnier – than the movie itself? Well, I proudly present the takeaway menu manifestation of this phenomenon. You'll grin in the middle but might just find yourself laughing out loud at the end.

Yes, this will be a perfect dish for you, you big, fat baby. You bockity bockity chicken, you. You gutless wonder who is scared of spicy dishes. Why don't you just grow up already? Yes, alright, I'll bring you your dish with smiling tomatoes. Will that make baby happy?

Mmm... soggy...

If, like me, your knowledge of human behaviour comes primarily from US television series then you'll be familiar with the concept of one lie meaning many lies. The essential idea is that if a person is lying about one thing, chances are that they are lying about other things. And if the initial lie is a big'un, it's likely the subsequent ones are too.

I've noticed that a similar principle applies to takeaway menus. Spot one mistake and chances are you'll soon spot another. Spot an absolutely massive mistake, and it's almost certain that you'll uncover an even bigger blunder just a moment later.

No menu better demonstrates this rule than one for a nearby fish and chip/pizza/kebab/pie/chicken restaurant. I will be sharing every delight from this wonderful document in due course but I've decided to start with one my brother spotted while staying with me this past weekend. If I tell you I hadn't previously noticed it you'll understand the extent to which this menu is chock-full of nonsense.

Mmmm, lovely 'n' soggy...

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to order one of your seafood pizzas but I notice that you say the base might be bit soggy. I was just wondering: will the cheese be mouldy? OK, great. And will the tomato sauce consist mostly of out-of-date ketchup? Excellent. And will the fish be full of bones? Brilliant! One Seafood Delight, please!"

Today's Special: Jack of all Trades

In my hallway, I have a framed advert from 1910. It is promoting one Alexander R. Arnott, a hairdresser, perfumer and wigmaker whose shop used to occupy 4 Electric Parade, Norwood Road, Tulse Hill. I like having a record of the history of the area in which I live; like imagining the way the streets I walk every day would have looked a century ago.

I also like looking at the language. It's so formal. My favourite line even chucks in a bit of Latin for good measure: "Advice gratis on all matters relating to the hair."

Sometimes I idly wonder if, in a hundred years' time, a resident of Tulse Hill will decorate a hallway with a framed hairdresser advert from 2011. I wonder if that person too will spend time imagining what their surroundings might have been like a century before. Most importantly, will that person realise that in 2011 the English language wasn't being treated with quite as much respect as in 1910? Take this sign for the current occupant of 393 Norwood Road:

So basically good at nothing, then?

Specialising in everything, eh? Mr Alexander R. Arnott, who provided advice gratis on all matters relating to the hair, would no doubt be bemused by the language used in modern advertising.

(Incidentally, the print of the Alexander R. Arnott ad came from Lambeth Landmark, a website which "showcases the best 10,000 images from Lambeth Archives collection of over 50,000 photographs, drawings, prints and watercolours" and allows you to order reproductions. If you live in Lambeth, or have any vague interest in the borough, I highly recommend a visit.)

Shall we just buy a bottle of drink?

Everyone loves free stuff. Especially when you only have to order a bottle of soft drink to get it.

Best. Offer. Ever.



Today's Special: What's taking you so long?

The focus of this blog is, of course, the delights of South London takeaway menus. But I fear that by only including menus, my faithful (and extremely limited) readership will be missing out on the amusement which is provided by the other business communications I come across – be it a leaflet through the door, a sign above a store, or an advert for a whore.

(I included the last in that list because it rhymed, but frankly cards in the windows of many South London newsagents do fall into that category.)

I have therefore decided to institute a special category – "Today's Special" in which I look beyond menus for chunks of comedy goodness. I begin with this lovely mailshot from a cleaner:

The words of a desperate cleaner

"I'm cleaning your neighbour house for more than a year"? A year?! What's taking so long? You poor, poor person.

Physicists might disagree

An unlikely claim

Forget the atomic theory of matter. One of my local pizza takeouts has made a major scientific breakthrough, discrediting that centuries-old theory once and for all. Quality is in fact matter. Who knew?

What's in a name?

I must admit I was a little sad when I first heard that Tulse Hill was to gain a Thai restaurant. This isn't Hoxton or Notting Hill, for crying out loud. We don't do culinary trends here. We do the classics: pizza, Chinese, Indian, and fried chicken. A hell of a lot of fried chicken, in fact. We do not do Thai fusion.

My worries vanished as soon as I learnt the name of this new establishment:

A rose by any other name... would in this instance be much better

You can sort of see how it happened: "Right, we're setting up a Thai restaurant. Let's have a pun in the name! Ideas, anyone?" You can imagine the moment that some bright spark said: "Wait! I've got it! Thaicoons!" You can envisage the people round the table making appreciative noises: "Yes! Thaicoons! Brilliant!"

What I can't understand is why, after the intial enthusiasm, no one gave it any deeper thought. Why did no one suddenly wake up in the middle of the night and realise that they were setting up a restaurant with a vaguely racist name? And, better than that, they were setting it up in notoriously cosmopolitan South London?

We may never know the answers to those questions. But what I do know is that Tulse Hill's only Thai restaurant hasn't changed the character of this little area of South London. It has simply strengthened its wacky charm.

No one likes desperation

Please? Oh, go on... Pretty please?

Pizza 2 Night are apparently unfamiliar with the concept of "treat 'em mean, keen 'em keen".