As I lumbered down Northfields Avenue, belly rumbling, knees aching, one thing was sustaining me. The pie at awaiting me at my destination. Thoughts of pastry flowed through my mind. What would I have to quench my yearning gut. I could play it safe, the steak and ale pie maybe even chicken and mushroom. Maybe I could go more avant-garde and gamble on a decent eel pie, cripes any pie at this point would've been great.
15 Minutes later I was almost there, I could see the sign "Cherry Pye", usually I don't go for sweet pies, but as its in their name, i thought i would forego my usual tradition and have a cherry pie following my savoury.
As I got closer, I saw strange mannequins at the window, wearing next to nothing , I'm no Gok Wan so didn't feel the need to comment on the decorations, I assumed it was a London thing. I looked above the door, the word "exotic" was written in big white letters. Hmmm the curry pie is probably worth going for then.
I walked in. As soon as I did, I grabbed my heart. I thought I was going to be met with smell of baking dough and happiness. Alas, it was the smell of latex and desperation. I was in a rage, sweat pouring from my face. These people were sex people.
I would have given 0 stars, however I did manage to have a quick fiddle.