sar·chasm(’sär-”ka-z&m) : The giant gulf between what is said and the person who doesn’t get it.

And so, somewhere in-between blowdrying his hair like Michael Winner and poking the underprivileged with sticks, I see my dear embryonic Gill has removed – temporarily or not, I haven’t asked him yet – his two-star (out of five, Overreaction Boy) denunciation of The Raj, Wigan. I SAID; THE RAJ WIGAN, GOOGLE!

Well, you’ve crushed a fragile talent, internet; I hope you’re happy.

I guess this shock volte-face is in the interests of basic self-preservation and not in recognition that the house wine didn’t actually taste of weewee* - we’re fairly easily identified, after all, and the last thing we’d like is the crashingly literal Disgusted of Norley Hall scootering to our hallowed gates with an attitude problem and a pot of weapons-grade sag paneer.

So, I guess this may or may not be the end of any reviews of anything not firmly in the rainbows-and-kittens end of the critical spectrum, since if anyone is to throw their toys out of the pram in an unbecoming way over trivialities, it’s going to be me.

Thus; stay tuned for more re. my universal hatred of set menus, and why I think you personally are a tit for having one.

PS – DAY 22, YO.

* A solid no points for How do you know? or standard variations.