They are clever, or our authorities are not so clever - I just don't get it. Surely HMRC check their records and must be able to check Chinky businesses and see they pay fuk all tax, probably miraculously pay no VAT either.
I endured a trip to IKEA the other day. There was a Chinky family walking around, the two male kids one of which must be about 16 but seemed to suffer for stuntitis and wore the gimpiest pair of yellow reebok trainers i've seen. They were engrossed in chinkinese about various items as i kept bumping into them as we walked around. I noticed they took particular interest in displays and kept picking items up from them. We'll they turned up at the checkout next to me and all hell broke out as the checkout assistant had to tell them that 1/2 of what they had, they had to put back as they had not picked up the stock items with bar codes on but display items.
Made my day.
Actually a friend of mine in HK grew up with her Chinese family, running a fish n chippery in.... Toxteth, the roughest part of scouse! She had some stories to tell.
I Visited Binley Mega Chippy to See What All the TikTok Fuss Is About - VICE
Get onit Dill like a car bonnet, its gone viral!!
That was on me old number 13 route
Never went in, my body's a temple
Germany and UK in trouble because they thought they were sanctioning the 11th or 12th biggest economy in the world when in reality they were sanctioning the 5th biggest economy. This is what happens when you measure a non USD bloc economy in USD. Fucking morons.
Seaside fish and chip shops are a national treasure. Here are 20 of the best | Restaurants | The Guardian
It would be grossly unfair to the many fabulous chippies located inland in this country to say that all the best places for fish and chips in the UK are down by the sea. There are many brilliant practitioners of the noble craft of deep frying all over the United Kingdom. But in the matter of our national dish, there’s no doubt that context matters; that the virtuous interplay of battered white fish and fried potatoes simply tastes better eaten at the seaside, ideally from within an unwrapped present of white paper, rendered translucent in places by a smear of hot oil from the gift within.
Forget tables. Forget chairs. You need to be on the beach itself or, at a push, perched on a sea wall, with a view out over British waters the colour of a day-old bruise, rippling away to the horizon under gunmetal skies. You unwrap and immediately receive a gust of hot, captured air that smells of all the good things in life. The very warmth of it feels like a reassuring challenge to the chill winds coming off the sea. Your supper is looking after you.
Then there’s the sweet dance of your food with the honking air here by the waters. Some chefs working at the very cutting edge of gastronomy have experimented with complex air sprays to augment the experience of their dishes: a spritz of something smelling of pine and juniper to conjure the waft of the forest for a venison dish, say, or a burst of artificial bonfire, to boost a slab of barbecue. Hilariously, mother nature, has long had this one covered. The smell of salt on the air down by the beach, along with the occasional burst of freshly stocked fishing boat, gives you all the sensory cues you need. It simply makes your fish and chips taste better.
And there’s something else. At times there have been concerns that fish and chips was a seriously hefty dish engineered for a time when more of us were engaged in calorie-burning manual labour, even though with its combination of protein, carbs and fats it is nutritionally balanced. Certainly, a fish supper taken on the couch at home can feel like a lovely indulgence that will ease you into a food coma’s sweet embrace. Eaten by the sea, however, where the winds roar and the sands give way beneath your feet, there is no room for words like indulgence. This is food as necessity. It’s a matter of survival. Or at least that’s what you can tell yourself, as you expend even more energy fighting off stroppy gulls, determined that you should tithe to them a chip. Or seven. It’s all part of the experience. There are good reasons why fish and chips was not rationed during both world wars. It was never just a dish; a clever combination of deep-fried battered fish and deep-fried chipped potatoes. It’s a matter of morale, of comfort, of identity. And the very best place to eat it is down by the sea. Jay Rayner
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