There is a thing in restaurant reviewing where, if you can’t think of a more original way of putting something, you just write, “With its fried chicken served at linen-covered tables under sterling silver cloches, the Fiery Cock comes on like the lovechild of Nando’s and Le Gavroche…” And everyone falls about laughing at the hilarious image of a posh French restaurant shagging a chicken shop, you stick a score on the end, file your expenses and call yourself a damn fine writer of humorous foodie prose.
Or, if you’ve already used the “lovechild” line earlier in the piece, then you might write, “If KFC fell for La Tour d’Argent on a whirlwind trip to Paris, and they had a baby, then it might well
