mardi 11 janvier 2011

Gay as in Shit Creperie Musicale

It was back in November that I visited this place when my friend Emily came to visit me. It's right near where I live and I walk past it several times every day. It didn't take me long to notice the handmade gay rainbow flag stuck to the door and I became intrigued, trying to look inside and suss out the clientele. It certainly did not seem like the sort of place you'd go alone, unless you were perhaps dating or fucking one of the staff. Not that I'd go there alone anyway cos I'm far too cheap. Suffice to say, we were pretty excited about going, I mean a gay Creperie that's also a bar and often has live music, what could possibly be bad? Erm, let me count the ways:

When we got there I asked the waitress/owner/twat that we wanted to eat something, wasn't sure if we'd get shown to a table or what. She said yeah and waved her arm in the general direction of the seats as if to say "Well what are you waiting for, you cretins, sit down!" Whatever. To drink we asked for a bottle of cider. Now, everyone knows that you can get a 75cl of cider in any big French supermarket for just over a euro, in the same way that you can also buy a carton of table wine for this price, and even in the smallest epicerie in the poshest bit of Paris you'd never pay more than 4 euros, if they sold it at all. So to charge nearly 10 euros for this seemed to be fouting on our gueule somewhat. But I mean we knew that's what it'd be and is our own fault for ordering it but it adds to the shitness of the place in any case. I also asked for a glass of water that never came. I ate a salad, it was fine as far as I remember. Emily asked for steak. Natch, we asked in French, since we were in France and it's not exactly hard to ask for stuff that's written in front of you. It was then that the waitress did that twatty thing that is responding to us in English. Now, don't get me wrong, if your English is really good then I guess it's acceptable cos sometimes it really is just easier. But oh my goodness, no word of a lie this was the SHITTEST ENGLISH I HAVE EVER HEARD. I am a primary school teacher. I teach French kids how to speak English. This was the shittest English I have ever heard. She was barely even intelligible, and spoke as though she hadn't put down the hash pipe (or the bottle of cheap cider) for more than five minutes in the last twenty years. We carried on speaking in French and eventually got the point across that we wanted a medium rare steak with a side of potatoes. Or so we thought. What arrived was a very well-done steak served with spinach. Now normally I'd take great pleasure in bitching that it was wrong, but for some reason that I can't quite place, I just didn't feel like it was worth it.

Atmos: atrocious.
Value for money: shite.
Babe factor: minus a million. I wouldn't bang anyone in there with a ten-foot strap-on, pet!

Verdict: Hopefully soon it'll close down and get turned into something a little more pleasant, like a home for rabid dogs.

1 commentaire:

  1. The labels on this are fantastic. "creperie, gay, Paris, twatty dykes" - I don't think these four words will ever be used together in this way again.