Nando’s

Nando’s is a cunt, isn’t it?

People love Nando’s. This is evident because what people who love Nando’s love even more than Nando’s is talking about how much they love Nando’s.

Enter the under lit world of this corporate South African restaurant, solely obsessed with their profit margin: The customers are the least discerning morons you’ll meet, a quagmire of cheap trainers, blubbing toddlers and couples eating peri peri sauce on baked cadavers while staring at their mobiles. You have to serve yourself drinks like a fast-food shithole yet you pay full restaurant prices. Chicken’n’chips for 13 Quid. Clever – unlike the corpulent, spotty families stuffing down corpses of fowl caked in sugary abattoir-flavoured sauce.

“Heyy, have you ever been to a Nando’s before, guys?”
“Fortunately, no. Could I order a wretched quality, previously-caged chicken with no value for money.”
“No problem. Pay before you eat so any posthumous complaints are meaningless and fetch your own cutlery and drinks. Enjoy.”

Nando’s is KFC for the lower-middle class. Too snobby to eat at a café but too poor or stingy to eat at a decent establishment.

The choice: Spicy enough that it’ll be the worst episode your anus will have ever experienced; or lemony enough that it tastes like an aeroplane wet wipe serviette.

Then there’s the smell. Even walking past makes you want to pebble-dash the pavement. Inside, the odour of a thousand sour farts hangs pungently whilst ugly hipsters with empty lives Instagram their sorry imitation of food.. Hopefully the awful stench repels any cockroaches/fruit flies/beetles, though not from the rumours I’ve heard.

Let’s go for a Cheeky Nando’s!
No thanks. I’d rather have my fingernails pulled off and eyes gouged out with a rusty spoon than visit that over-priced, over-salted, over-hyped, over-rated purveyor of processed, battery-farm faeces.

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

I used to happen to like Nandos on occasion. However as my old mate pointed out, they serve halal chicken. I looked into it. In certain restaurants they serve only halal as in Leicester. But they say they can’t guarantee not serving halal in restaurants in non peaceful areas where they have a supply problem. That’s why it’s a cunt. You wouldn’t know if your nosh was halal or not. Halal butchery is enough to make you go veggie. It’s a cunt.

Nominated by Alan Fistula

59 thoughts on “Nando’s

  1. A moments pause for the injustice of Lily Mong missing out on the Mercury Music Prize, “someone call 999 Iv been robbed” she twatted. Quite.
    Krav, you might need a lie-down.

    • Her Dad Keef sent her a text admonishing her about her latest book. She described how her father had had a heart attack due to over snorting cocaine. Of course Keef wasn’t happy as his heart attack was brought on by food poisoning (he alleged) and in all those years past the Mong was convinced it was the white powder as a drunken Keef had told her prior to writing the book. For fucks sake – Is there nothing sacred or nothing they wont disclose to sell a book. Seems he wasn’t bothered about her putting it about and having lesbian flings – that would be normal for such a cuntish child. Keef must be so proud of his little bundle of snakeshit

  2. Been there twice on obligatory birthday duty.
    1st time was ok as I like spicy food . Unfortunately I can’t 100% prove their guilt in a court as it was nearly 24 hours after the second visit that I began to shit what felt like thin gravy.
    One whole week of barely eating and pissing out of my arse.
    A bit of research and common sense provided the most reasonable diagnosis.
    Fucking salmonella poisoning. Where do you catch that from?
    Poultry!
    Cunts!

  3. All the sophistication of a road side food vendor in Calcutta. Just bury the chicken in an avalanche of powerful sauce and spices, then no one is the wiser as to where, or when, the chicken came from.

    The associated phrase ‘Cheeky Nandos anyone?’ is more than enough warning that it’s an establishment of bellendery.

  4. Halal slaughter fine by me if it’s applied to the cuntmasters that propagate it.

    Hang Suckdicq Khunt upside down and slit his throat by all means.

    Nando’s can FO&DO.

  5. Excellent cunting gents.

    Mr fistula: you might be alarmed at how many fast food chains now quietly serve halal…and supermarket chains. Definitely a subject for a future cunting.

  6. Fuck, Nando’s is vile.
    Overpriced stringing shite swimming in the equally cuntish Peri-Peri sauce.
    What the fuck is Peri-Peri anyway?
    Ashtray leavings with a soupçon of vomit?

  7. I’ve never been to a Nandos,but I know a young lass who manages one. She has an absolutely lovely big set of tits.
    Hope this helps.

    Fuck them.

    • Evening Mr F.
      There’s a Nando’s in my little town.
      There’s also practically no Um Bongos at all.
      Yet when I went (under duress) for my son’s birthday, the place looked like the Serengeti.
      Although, to be fair, they were all pleasant and well-behaved. Just proves my theory about inner city chimps vs their slightly more advanced provincial cousins.
      I’ll bet there’s not a chiggun chompery within many miles of your remote abode?

      • Evening Mr. Cunt-Engine.

        There’s not even a McDonalds in my nearest town,and it’s 30 odd miles away. The town council told them to Fuck Off when they applied to build one. No fast-food chain places at all. No bad thing, I reckon.
        Think that this,allied to a lack of crack-cocaine and the surfeit of redoubtable women, accounts for the lack of Darkies. No bad thing,either.

        • Fuck me, I didn’t think places like that still existed. I’m surprised someone hasn’t tried paying off your council, or even ‘taken them out’.

          • Aye, I suppose eventually we’ll discover that the planning committee have all had extensions built on their houses by,coincidentally, the same firm that builds the McDonalds crap-shacks and we’ve got a big shiny burger joint with surrounding roads overflowing with the litter from Happy Meals.

        • Not even a Yates or a Walkabout Bar? I think the pinnacle has to be a Primark, like a beacon of chavdom for cut price leggings and boob tubes.

          • Ah,we’ve got the pound-shops but,no, none of those chain places. They did allow one of those coffee-shops to build on the retail park on the outskirts of the town a year or so ago,so I suppose it wont be long till we get the rest of the Cunts moving in.

      • Nandos is a bit high end for yer average aspiring architect. They would find the concept of ordering food that you don’t point to a formica picture of above the counter quite complicated.

        Its still shite though. Been there a few times, mostly with work. Never got the hype. Way overpriced, not really filling or tasty and full of cunts. A victory of style over substance.

    • Ha, back on form Dick – have you been unwell of late? I enjoy not only reading your posts but the “Fuck them” is the cherry on the cake. Keep it up 😉

  8. I have never eaten in a nandos. Or a ben and jerrys or any other restaurant with a name that’s fucking stupid.
    Everyone who knows me avoids mentioning it, even if it’s a birthday, wedding or wake. Most of them do not want to hear the predictable rant about campy good fun bollock names that accompanies the red face and spitting. Again.
    I will not tolerate this idiotic camp approach to naming things. It’s a transmission vector for stupidity, moronism, illiteracy, cuntery, bumfoolery, ignorance, popular culture in it’s many forms and probably the worship of celebrity.
    Fucking cunts.
    I suppose there’s bound to be something wrong with the food, but I’ve not got that far yet.

  9. So the Great Appeaser, like some hooded street rat, demands respec’ from the EU cuntlords. Bullies will never respect weaklings Mavis you daft useless bitch. Just fuck off for fucks same.

  10. Another fucking Grenfell “victim”….

    “Illegal immigrant, 28, who claimed he was a Grenfell fire victim to try to gain amnesty as he swindled a £60,000 hotel stay is facing jail”

    What a fucking disgrace those sponging,thieving Cunts are.

          • Evening RTC.
            I made the mistake of having a vindaloo after a beer festival last Sat.
            Fuck me backwards, after my 5th lava-like plop on Sun, my poor ring felt like I’d endured 20 minutes of a thoroughly furious Barrymore Lubbocking!

          • Made the twattish mistake of trying a Phal once, flaming Eck like tucking into a plate of conc Nitric. Left most of it but still got dysentry. Anybody else getting more sensitive to chilli as they get older. Seems odd.

          • Ha ha… long been a vindaloo man myself, though once had a phall in Birmingham – made my teeth shake!

        • For a sit-down we take it in turns to drive and make a full night of it. For a takeaway, the local pub takes the orders on a Friday night and the fella from the curry-house delivers the bulk order to the pub where people either collect them or the landlord sets the pool-room out to eat them there. The curry-house does well out of the big order and the landlord does well from the extra drinkers. Had some fucking good takeaway nights in the pub. Seen the sun rising on more than one occasion by the time we decide to call it a night and go home.

          • Ho ho, that sounds excellent.
            As long as there’s no “Winner’s sauce” secreted in the curry…

          • Wow, I can’t lie mr F, I’m envious. Good for you and yours.
            R.e. The spicy heat. Long been a fan, the vindaloo and the phal are wonderful curries. However, nothing beats home cooking and for fifty fucking pence tesco sell a pack of california reaper chillies. Jesus fucking christ. I’ve never had anything like it. Tasty, delicious, and kicked the shit out of me. Even my wife gave me a fair out ‘it’s ok my love, we won’t think anything less of you if you can’t finish it.” Which I DID NOT take.
            Fifty fucking pence well spent.

    • Holy fuckbubble, Civvy, where do you live? Pyeongyang? These abattoir shit-heeps are everywhere! You must have a rustic abode.

      Lucky fucker.

      • I live in Berkshire, but ive become a bit of an anchorite and have become completely fecked off with negotiating all the wankers,home grown and imported that populate modern England🍗

  11. It is an emporium serving dead cuts of fowl, the taste of which is deliberately masked by a very generous, sensory overloading of spices.

    Favoured by macaroons and hipsters alike. I patronised one of these grotty groidholes during a works outing. Never again. I would have sooner eaten my own toenail clippings.

  12. Food related. Another of my weird doings with Johnny Foreigner. In curry house, midweek, had a few but compos, order curry, take away Bangladeshi insists I sit down. Fine standing I say thanks. Health and safety he grins, uh there’s only me fucking here. Calm down tone, move totally out of way. Fucking cunt with that smarmy sanctimonious grin bashes into me deliberately. I keep telling you he says, you’re in the way. Look mate, I’m an old drinker with etiquette, I would never dream of obstructing someone for a nanosecond. Is it me? They probably had one of those fucking signs saying they won’t accept aggro from punters. He was actively deliberately winding me up.

    • Tell the Cunt that you work for either the Council Hygiene Dept. or the Border Agency. That normally wipes the smirk off their faces. Be sure to announce it as you leave without paying.

      • Funny you should say that, they got raided, 3 I think turned out illegal, the boss, who I think is English, insisted the one guy was planted by immigration and he’d never seen him before. The plod have gone on a spree around here and every other curry house is being done for something or other. Fucking bonkers.

  13. I went in my local Nando’s once and was greeted by a thick lipped fuzzy haired gentleman who spoke to me in wigger language. After an hour of eating something that resembled chicken, my bottom was squirting a horrible hot liquid and vomiting cheese sauce . It’s a fuckin shite house that health and safety have overlooked.

  14. I’ve only been to Nando’s once. I took a couple of customers who’s choice it was to go.

    Because I’m a dick head that never learns from previous mistakes I smothered my chicken in the hottest sauce available.

    I love a bit of spice but it goes through me like a Porsche.

    I’d say we were there for around an hour after which I paid the bill, we shook hands and agreed to do more business together.

    I got to my car first and as l left the car park my customers were still stood outside Nando’s.

    As I raised my hand to wave to them I was overcome with the urge to fart, yet I knew it wouldn’t be straightforward.

    Smiling like a Cheshire Cat I waved at my customers whilst sharting myself all at the same time and then drove 10 miles home trying desperately to hold my ass up from the seat.

    Several years on my back is still fucked and I’m traumatised by the entire experience.

    Nando’s really can foooook off

      • There’s nothing worse than following through and being no where near anywhere to clean up your mess.

        To top it off I had a fairly new suite on as well.

        I reckon the 15 minute journey home took at least half an hour.

        When I pulled up on the drive my youngest daughter came to the door to greet me and my loyal Labrador did his usual jumping up at me to lick my face.

        If only he’d been at Nando’s…..

        • I had a similar experience Cunty a few years ago. I was in a National car park the morning after a Vindaloo . I was just about to get into my car when I had an incredible urge to vacate my bowels. I shat my self on the way out. My main worry was that if old bill stopped me and winding down the window an overwhelming stench of rotting shell fish wafted out would I be arrested or told to fuck off ?

          • You have my deepest sympathy Fenton.

            Around 4 years ago I had a job that took me all over the country. I lived in hotels and had a shocking diet, cooked breakfasts, shitty sandwiches from Tesco, comfort food in the evening and too much booze.

            Earlier in the day in question I’d been in Hemel and went to Tesco for my dinner but decided I’d have a salad bowl.

            I then had to travel down to Southampton for the rest of the week.

            As I was nearing the M3 entry my guts started to tell me I needed to find the services within the next 20 mins or so.

            At the time there were major roadworks on the M3 and I’d say within 2 or 3 minutes we came to a complete stand still.

            10 mins in I was starting to try to work out my options but there weren’t any. If you know the M3 the section I was stuck on was bordered by high bankings with fencing on top.

            20 mins in I was genuinely running out of options. I’d danced in my seat, slapped myself silly and pinched my arms to within an inch of my life.

            What happened next was a genuinely seminal moment in my life. Surrounded by vehicles that all by some fluke were all at angles to my window I came to terms with the fact I was just about to shit myself.

            I had less than 10 seconds to mitigate the oncoming shit storm, almost instinctively I reached for the salad bowl and I genuinely believe simultaneously pulled my kecks down and just managed to get it under my ass as I literally let go.

            It’s not often I feel humiliated but at that very moment I felt I’d reached a new low point.

            My trousers were on the floor but my skids took a barrage.

            Next problem was how the fuck do I get them off without smearing shit everywhere. The answer was a Yale key, I kid you not a fucking Yale key. I hacked away at the sides of my skids so I could get them off without looking like I was having my own dirty protest.

            Having got them off and put the shitty salad bowl and skids in the Tesco carrier I started the clean up.

            Only the week before I’d bought a tub of screen wipes which were unused and in my glove box.

            I started the clean up process and please take into account I’ve just shit myself surrounded by people in stationary vehicles that I genuinely think didn’t spot what was going on and then without warning the traffic set off.

            I had no option but to drive in a 50 zone, no keks on, shit all up my back, balls and seat, whilst trying to steer and clean up at the same time.

            Eventually I made it to Fleet Services where I promptly pulled in and deposited a big bag of shit in the first bin you come to right at the top of the car park.

            Genuinely I really let myself down that day. 44 year old bloke shitting himself in a traffic jam. Bastard.

          • I know that I shouldn’t laugh,but Thanks Gents. These anecdotes are the funniest things that I’ve read for ages.
            Genuinely laughing out loud.

  15. The daughter of a friend of mine (student) worked there which informed a lot of my cunting. She said they told her, “We’re like one big family here.” She later said that if that were the case, Social Services should become involved as there’s bullying, sexism, subordinating cunts, obsessive money-making, slavish expectancy, and an overall deficiency of Health & Safety that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in the East of Asia. “A disgusting pit, behind the scenes” was her assessment.

    • Like any food type place, can put you off for life, or think fuck it, I’ve got this far. All those regulations, paperwork, inspections, traceability, young bushy tails with their degrees and new Audis, then, ah yeah sorry, you’ve been eating condemned horse for the last five years.

  16. Bloke walks a bird home from the pub and gets in the door with the ‘come in for a coffee routine.’

    Ten minutes later they’re having a grapple on the sofa and the bloke asks…

    “Where’s the loo?”

    “It’s upstairs, you can’t. You’ll wake my parents.”

    “I’m getting desperate” he replies.

    “Well use the kitchen sink, but be quick.”

    A couple of minutes pass and she calls out…

    “You OK in there?”

    “Yeah I’m fine, got any bog roll”….

  17. Another aspiring teenage quantum physics student has been rushed to horsepiddle after yet another stabby fare in Limehousestan, East London. Nonetheless, we expect his mum to say “he’s a good boy who is turning his life around”.

    Suckdick Khunt likely doesn’t give two tugs on Allah’s todger provided no towelly types were harmed.

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