A pig in shit.

I've just had the best, most fucking wonderful lunch. The sort of food that made me smile and giggle, lick my lips and plate and grab the arse of passers by. The staff must have thought I was slightly deranged.

Such a contrast from the unbelievably naff, poncy restaurant the other night where the rabbit was so tough it was like chewing the knuckles of Jeremy Beadle's withered hand in Sue Pollard's front room.

For more than twice as much as lunch today.

Grrrr.