Easy 10
Brain dead MUG SHEEP
It is with great regret that I must report the passing of an esteemed and long respected Brighton institution.
For as long as I can remember, Cheeky Chicken in Preston St (opposite Dig in the Ribs) has led the way in chicken filletburger technology and general all-round sumptuousness. For a little under £3, you could purchase a splendid plump chicken breast fillet cooked to perfection, with a light-crisp golden coating and succulent, achingly soft white breast meat, all contained within a fresh warm bap. Finished off with just a smattering of mayonnaise (no salad thanks mate), and you had yourself the PERFECT end to a drunken night on the town. No grease, no hard bits, just pure, fast-food perfection.
Not any more.
On my way home from the cinema last week (The Departed - quite good), I decided to indulge myself in an all-too rare Cheeky Chicken treat. I was slightly concerned on entering the establishment that the neon sign behind the counter had changed. No matter, the famed Fillet Burger was still there up in lights, so I ordered my filletburger with mayo (no salad thanks mate), and waited for my delicious snack. When it arrived, I was dismayed. The chicken fillet was rather flat, and nothing like the usual thick, plump breast I was accustomed to. The bap didn't feel particularly soft or fresh, and it was even slightly SINGED underneath around the edge. On biting into the filletburger, all my worst fears were realised, and came crashing down around my ears. The chicken was stringy, a bit tough, and had too much batter round the edges.
I thought about taking it back to complain, but I could feel myself getting a little emotional by this stage, as I felt a small part inside of me dying. I thought back to those years in my youth, of walking all the way back from West St to Cheeky Chicken for something to eat. I've even dumped women I've PULLED that night (down The Suite) because they simply couldn't be arsed to walk to this mecca of fast food deliciousness in Preston St. So I left them standing there in their cheap stilettos and hoop-la earrings, chewing gum like a bewildered grazing BOVINE as I've made my way along the seafront to answer my gastric demands. So many memories.
Sadly, I will no longer be visiting the Cheek, until or unless they sort those filletburgers out.
Cheeky Chicken is dead. Long Live the ZINGER.
For as long as I can remember, Cheeky Chicken in Preston St (opposite Dig in the Ribs) has led the way in chicken filletburger technology and general all-round sumptuousness. For a little under £3, you could purchase a splendid plump chicken breast fillet cooked to perfection, with a light-crisp golden coating and succulent, achingly soft white breast meat, all contained within a fresh warm bap. Finished off with just a smattering of mayonnaise (no salad thanks mate), and you had yourself the PERFECT end to a drunken night on the town. No grease, no hard bits, just pure, fast-food perfection.
Not any more.
On my way home from the cinema last week (The Departed - quite good), I decided to indulge myself in an all-too rare Cheeky Chicken treat. I was slightly concerned on entering the establishment that the neon sign behind the counter had changed. No matter, the famed Fillet Burger was still there up in lights, so I ordered my filletburger with mayo (no salad thanks mate), and waited for my delicious snack. When it arrived, I was dismayed. The chicken fillet was rather flat, and nothing like the usual thick, plump breast I was accustomed to. The bap didn't feel particularly soft or fresh, and it was even slightly SINGED underneath around the edge. On biting into the filletburger, all my worst fears were realised, and came crashing down around my ears. The chicken was stringy, a bit tough, and had too much batter round the edges.
I thought about taking it back to complain, but I could feel myself getting a little emotional by this stage, as I felt a small part inside of me dying. I thought back to those years in my youth, of walking all the way back from West St to Cheeky Chicken for something to eat. I've even dumped women I've PULLED that night (down The Suite) because they simply couldn't be arsed to walk to this mecca of fast food deliciousness in Preston St. So I left them standing there in their cheap stilettos and hoop-la earrings, chewing gum like a bewildered grazing BOVINE as I've made my way along the seafront to answer my gastric demands. So many memories.
Sadly, I will no longer be visiting the Cheek, until or unless they sort those filletburgers out.
Cheeky Chicken is dead. Long Live the ZINGER.
