An Indian restaurant, how very nice
others wouldn’t look at it twice.
They say ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’,
so I went inside, dragging my lover.
I should’ve been warned, there was no-one in there
as we’re given our table I’m full of despair.
It feels like a graveyard, I’m too scared to sneeze
as we get stared at, I’m eager to please.
I feel we’re on stage now, receiving attention
I just hope the food is worth a mention.
When it arrives I’m so sad to be right,
it looks more like a pile of shite.
Cow dung would give more steam on the table
It looks like their microwave just wasn’t able.
Avoiding the bits of unheated curry
The small pools of oil make me want to hurry.
The sooner I finish, the quicker I leave,
from this bad food there’s no reprieve.
I turn to the rice in the hope that it’s better,
instead I can see that it’s shiny and wetter.
As I dig under, I see lots more oil
good food they really know how to spoil.
I feel like a fool, I got caught in here
previous customers won’t come near.
