There’s eight of us, and all we want is chicken

The popularity of Nandos really is, it seems to me, a sign that we really have reached the depths of despair. You see, all Nandos serves is chicken. Just chicken. And maybe some sweetcorn on the side. As we walked last night past a sandwich board (oh for a sandwich!) declared “Chicken platter for eight to share!”.

Perhaps irrationally many things bother me about the popularity of Nandos. The collective lack of adventure in the nations tastes. The further manifestation of the decline of individuality. The rubbish quality of the chicken itself.

And its not a class thing. There’s enough on the Internet already about class wars around Nandos entering peoples neighbourhoods, and that’s not my point. Its about the food itself not the clientele. Class, taste and culinary adventure are not linked in my mind.

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