What's that smell?

Remember our good friends at Pizza 2 Night? They're the ones who were literally begging us to order online.

Well it seems their pleas fell on deaf ears. Recently I received a new menu from them and it contained this bombshell:


Yeah, but to be fair the old managers offered free delivery as well

The new managers aren't about to faff about with begging. No, they're straight to the goddamn point. Sort of:

The world's first ever scratch 'n' sniff website

No need for charcoal

Spring is here and that means barbeque season can't be far off. Soon enough, any vaguely sunny evening (or any evening which follows a vaguely sunny day) will bring with it the smell of poorly cooked meat.

This time is not a particularly pleasant one for vegetarians who like to open their windows. Traditionally, though, it has been a good time for sellers of charcoal. Sales figures for this good ol'BBQ fuel have in years past soared by 110%* when March begins. But it seems the times they are a changin'. Now it's apparently possible to run a barbeque on a couple of pieces of lettuce, a slice of cucumber, and a bit of the old rocket:

It's sunny! I'm gonna fire up the barbeque. Get me a big bag of salad – quick!

* Guesstimate.

Catering for a very specific audience

Only got one taste bud? Have I got the restaurant for you!

They're poets and I suspect they didn't know it



Speeling Checkhas Dunt Always Help

So I'm a writer and editor for a living. In this role, I am sometimes expected to offer the benefits of my expertise to those who don't get paid for spotting misplaced commas. Sometimes, this is a joyful experience – a collaboration which results in something better than either party could have come up with alone. More often than not though, it's miserable. Here's why: everyone thinks they can write. "Hey," they think, "I've been writing since I was five. I know what I'm doing! And, sure, sometimes I make mistakes with spelling and grammar, but that's what Word's spelling and grammar check is for! I certainly don't need some namby-pamby writer and editor telling me what to do."

Here's the truth though: they do need help. They really do. After all, I have been doing basic sums since the age of five but it doesn't mean I'm a mathematician. And having access to a calculator doesn't change that fact – I can't interpret the results it gives me. Same applies to spell checkers. Sure, they'll pick up some mistakes. But you can't rely on them for everything. Here's a case in point:

Classic

If you're in a pizza restaurant with me, there is no need to ask me what I am going to order. 99 times out of 100 the answer is going to be the same: Margherita. Some mock this choice, suggesting that it is unadventurous in the extreme. I have always confidentally countered with the argument that I am ordering a classic pizza. Mozzarella, tomato and basil: how can you go wrong? I tell people I favour the original and best (and, yes, I am also a big Kellogg's fan).

I am sad to report that it now seems my confident pronouncements have been highly misguided. I, it seems, have no idea quite what is meant by a classic pizza:

A pizza ain't a pizza without a meat that most people only eat once a year!

 To borrow from the mighty David Letterman: boy is my face red.

Do you think we should order more?

It can be tough to know whether the food and drink you have ordered is going to be sufficient to satisfy the hungry and thirsty mouths around your table. So I always like it when a restaurant specifies how many a menu item is likely to serve:

Hmmmm... so one can of soft drink only serves one person. I didn't know that. Had we better order more?

Overegging the pudding

There are some people who are just incapable of calling a spade a spade: estate agents ("needs some work" = destroyed by an earthquake a century back and not touched since); recruitment consultants ("you'll need to be ready to hit the ground running" = previous postholder was hopeless and left a shitload of work); and, of course, our dear writers of takeaway menus. I offer the following beautiful example:

So essentially just a bit of pineapple, then?

Fish 'n' fungi

Back in the late nineties, I held the very prestigious post of News Editor at the University of Reading student newspaper. My success in tracking down stories about the latest ant infestations in halls of residence was such that I was eventually promoted, first to the post of Deputy Editor (a brief tenure during which I wrote an editorial which managed to alienate pretty much every Irish person on campus) and then to the heady heights of Editorship.

When I left the News department I handed the reins over to one Ms Sally-Anne Johnson, an ace news hound who supplied me with an array of interesting stories with which to fill the paper I was now editing. A decade later and the situation has reocurred – this morning, Sally sent me this lovely example of Nonsense on the Menu taken from a menu she saw in Morocco.

I'll have a sea-bear with a side of mould, please.

Incidentally, Sally too climbed the ladder to Editorship of Spark. To my knowledge she did not insult any Irish people on the way and, after she left university, she became an actual proper journalist. Sally has her own lovely blog which tells you all about her adventures in modern day journalism.
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What's that you say? You too have an example of some menu nonsense? Well send it to me, if you please. Or just Facebook me because, let's face it, if you're reading this then chances are you're a Facebook friend of mine. Which reminds me: why not become a Facebook friend of Nonsense on the Menu?
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Does what it says on the tin... sort of

Why don't you?

I hated Why Don't You?, the school-holiday-time BBC kids TV series. It always bothered me that the central conceit of the show was contradictory – on the one hand, they wanted me to turn off my TV and do something less boring instead, but the on the other I had to have my TV on in order for them to tell me this. And, of course, for them to be able to show me some awful arts and crafts project which would apparently relieve my boredom.

Lately, however, I have discovered some love for the phrase. It's all thanks to this entry on a menu:

Why don't you?

I feel it only polite to answer the questions posed. I don't try our new Chicken Tropicana because I don't eat meat. And I don't try our new Sweet Bake Pizza because it sounds nothing short of completely revolting:




Cheese, caramel sauce and a layer of sweet syrup: making chalk and cheese seem like a good combination.

 

Lppk wjen ypu tyoe

So I don't mean to boast, but I'm a relatively quick typist. It's the product of growing up in a house which had more computers than it did televisions, hours spent playing early graphic adventures, and working in a profession which requires you to churn out words quickly.

Nowadays, I can type accurately without looking at the keyboard. Back when I was editing an essay I'd written for History GCSE, though, the days of staring at screen rather than 'board were still a way off. Oh, sure, I fancied myself as a touch typist. But the reality was that not looking at what my fingers were doing was leading to an accuracy rate of about 50 percent and an essay which said "Hilter" every time I meant "Hitler".

My Mum, who was helping me cut back this over-the-word-limit document, pointed out that perhaps I should stop trying to touch type and just look at the keyboard. After all, I was a more than fast enough typer as it was.

This was sage advice. Look when you type. I wish someone had passed it on to whoever put together this menu:


Er... could you repeat that?

(After several Google searches and endless looks at my keyboard I can offer what I think is an accurate translation: the Kashmari dishes are "cooked with bananas".)

But does it come with cheese?

Ah, the excitement of ordering pizza from a new restaurant. You hope that it's going to be a truly wonderful experience; that this will be the best pizza you have ever tasted; that this new establishment will displace your previous favourite. But in the back of the mind is the thought that trying a new place might be a dreadful mistake. What if it's awful? What if, God forbid, their pizzas are missing a major component?

Well, my friends, no need to worry about that at Pizza Hotline:

Yup, it comes with cheese.

Spring Fresh Ice Cream

So you've wolfed down your soggy seafood pizza and now you're looking for a dessert. How about a lovely tub of ice cream?

Is it just me, or does this ice cream taste a bit powdery?

I'm sure that anyone ordering this deal does in fact get a nice tub of Cookies 'n' Cream. But I prefer to imagine them receiving something like this:

Tomato Saucy

A parental advisory necessary for today's post. Somehow, a previously-featured nonsense-filled menu has made its manager's pledge of high quality pizza sound like something from a Carry On film.

Barbara Windsor says: "Ooooo, tomato saucy! [Giggle]"