Why is it in London that a slice of cake costs more then my travel pass? A couple of weeks I was on a walkabout with friends in Central London (pretty much). After having some lunch in the infamous Wagamama we decided we wanted to neutralize our pungent tongues with some dessert. Anything sweet and large- Tiramisu, Chocolate cake, maybe a Vanilla Slice at the right price. Imagine the twinkling of glee when we found a teensy-weensy, shoddy slice of cake to cost around four quid at our favourite noodle shack!
So fuck it. We took a stroll down by the bankside and look for a nearby cake outlet which would satisfy our pricing needs. We stumbled upon this joint nearby Embankment station – I can’t remember the name and believe me I don’t want to. No way am I ever going back!
Our quartet stroll in, the rain is spitting, ready to start pissing, the winds are singing, implying forget about lingering. In fact the trek was tiring and if I said I wanted to walk even further I would be lying. So this is the place to shelter and chill, now I wish I had found somewhere else to evoke my thrills.
A slice of cake – £3.75! A puny,plastic piece of jumble and mash, dearer then a shot of hash, sharper then a drunkard’s rash, three bites and your out of it, two minutes and you can leave, there’s no place, there’s no need for you to sit. Fine. We lost the effort, we lost the time, so here is the place for us to chew our fragments and dine.
We sit, we relax, we chat, we even kip. Alas, we pay the bill for this arguably irregular thrill. Believe our astonishment when we find a £1.50 service charge on top of the single slice of cake. How fake – the waitresses smile, a face full of intention, a plate full of bile! All we looked for was redemption, trying to save our pockets, trying to save our change and now we got injected with a farce that only results in a pain, so vast, I wish I had bought a whole box of croissants at Sainsbury, for less then three quid – now it looks fucking top class.
We split the cost, I spit at the loss – we’re all paying £4.13. We walked all that way, we wasted our oxygen, we wasted our legs, we wasted our time to save 12 pence. And hence, we wasted our mind to find a place which was never ever really there. A place in London where a slice of cake was at a price that wasn’t so fucking fake!