Worse than intestines

I just had the worst meal here so far by a country mile. Canters came so highly recommended that going for a late lunch there seemed like a no-brainer. Big mistake. Whatever reputation it had as a cool, celeby hang-out with great food had faded like the paint on the walls.

I forgave the chintzy decor thinking perhaps it was ironic or something, or maybe listed like Pelluccio in London's Bethnal Green. A cool, little greasy spoon for those in the know. But no, Canters deco was just plain, old tired. It was to interior design and fine dining what the Titanic was to cruises.

I ordered eggs benedict. What arrived looked like it had been crafted out of old Playdough by a man in boxing gloves. It looked disgusted and who knows what decade the hollandaise sauce was made in. This primordial slime was such an unappetising and unnatural shade of orange that if it were left for a million years it would evolve into Katie Price.

My mate Simon didn't fair any better. Their attempt at lasagne looked like the work of a prison chef that had got ideas above his station.

We then found ourselves having the time-honoured dilemma of what to do about a tip. No tip was not an option because the waitress had fulfilled her part of the contract by bringing the "food". (Its a weird paradigm where, to show your annoyance, you tip by 15% instead of 20. That'll learn 'em).

Anyway,  we went for 12 but quickly scurried out before having to scurry back as we'd forgotten to get out parking validated.

Shame on you Canters. Appalling food, average service and not a celebrity in sight. 2\10.