As you well know, it’s party season. School’s out for Easter, and the children are out in force, cavorting through the streets like Eastern Bloc revolutionaries. I walk into a restaurant where 15 of these stubby, prepubescent rabble-rousers have gathered for a birthday bash. Nothing wrong with that per se, except for the fact that the ‘restaurant’ is a kebab house.
A kebab house?
For a 10-year-old’s birthday party?
What the fuck’s going on?
What the fuck are they eating?
Sponge-cake with chilli sauce?
Blancmange and cock-sized pickled gherkins?
Lord, give me strength.
And some of that jelly in Pitta.