Gastropubs

I’d like to cunt Gastropubs.

What the fuck is a “gastropub”? All I need from a boozer, food wise, is decent portions of home made grub, standard stuff like pie and chips, fish and chips maybe liver and onions, that sort of stuff. And proper beer, kept well. I do not want a vegetable made into a main meal with a drizzle of nastiness squeezed out of the chefs acne and smeared on the plate.

Also, what the fuck is a plate? I’ll tell you what it is, it’s summat to serve bloody food on. I fucking hate being served on a slate, plank of wood or virgin’s belly…it’s just wrong. Fuck off you cunts.

Whilst I’m on one, a pie has a bottom and top crust. There’s no place for puff pastry tops on a bowl of stewed meat…that is not a fucking pie, you arseholes. In fact, puff pasty shouldn’t be anywhere near a pie. Shortcrust or suet pastry only.

Nominated by Bertram Cuntatious DCO

50 thoughts on “Gastropubs

  1. This is where Wetherspoons wins out – good pub grub, nothing pretentious and no loud fucking music

  2. A big round plate that allows me to manage my food is preferable to a small, oddly shaped one. So I agree with this nomination.

  3. Is that vomit or flem on the top in the accompanying photograph. Yuccchh.

    Totally agree with this cunting. Gastropubs are prime purveyors of cunt food. I remember when the only food you could get in a pub was Ploughman’s Lunch, and it was delicious.

    • It is drizzled jizz, aka cum, as the genuine (ahem) photo states.

      Freshly squeezed, probably by the hipster cunt owner.

  4. Does anyone else remember the days of Chiggun and Chips in the basket?
    It went out of fashion due to the shortage of baskets after all the early incomers started eating the fuckin’ baskets. “ Like to get your moneys worth? “

    • Now pubs are struggling and the ones who can turn their hand to good food can thrive and survive,
      My pub of choice just has great ale and peanuts an crisps.
      Landlord says if asked “mcdonalds over the road, can eat it in here”.
      Once went a pub who brought me chips in a terracotta flowerpot, no shit!
      Said -what the fucks this?”
      Waitress acted like it was normal, and everyone eats out of plant pots.
      Gravy come in a watering can?
      To weird for me!

  5. Rarely go in a pub these days and even more rarely eat in one, but if I do I want food I can recognise and a fair portion that’s about good eating and not some Jamie Oliver wanna be cunts ego.

  6. Gastro means small expensive portions of pretentious shite. Well suited to London but not welcome elsewhere. My pub serves a selection of well kept ales and a fuck-off haddock, chips and Scunny guacamole. (mushy peas to any southern English cunts) The Sunday roast is a gut buster too. Stick your gastro pub up your arse.

    • Haha!

      I was in a gaff once that did “Traditional” fish and chips, haddock or cod with triple-cooked chips and “crushed” minted peas or petis-pois.

      When the waiter came I asked for haddock with mushy peas.

      “One haddock with the crushed, minted peas.”

      “Yes that’s right, with mushy peas ta.”

      The cunt looked a bit sniffy at my “mushy” insistence but fucked off without further issue.

      Have to say it was excellent and a tidy portion to boot, and when El Cunto reappeared to take the plates away I did relish in telling him how lovely their mushy peas were… 😂

      —-

      James Martin summed up gastro-pub bullshit perfectly for me.

      His guest chef was Galton Blackiston, his mate and who runs a fine dining establishment in Suffolk. His studio guest was Leslie Garrett. He was cooking a sweet, something simple like an apple tart with homemade ice cream.

      “Now then Lesley, as you’re a Yorkshire lass, I’m giving you a nice dollop of this wonderful ice cream. And for you Galton, I’m going to give you a beautiful quenelle of this ice cream with yours.”

      They tuck in.

      Martin then says: “You do know what the difference is between a dollop and a quenelle don’t you?”

      Both guests look puzzled.

      “Well at Galton’s place it’s about £15 quid!”

      Genius! 😆

    • Possibly an urban legend but apparently back in the day Peter Mangledbum was on a Labout visit to some northern toilet that took in a visit to a fish and chip shop.

      He was asked if he wanted mushy peas with his fish and chips and replied, and in all seriousness ‘no thanks, I don’t like guacamole”…..

  7. Completely agree with the pie comments,crust top and bottom,I can forgive puff pastry but only if it’s all the way round.For my sins I worked in Wigan for a few years and without doubt they had the best pies bar none.
    How do they get away with serving food on slate? it contains silica which is the cause of the lung disease silicosis.

    Gobshites!

    • Due to an endless supply of materials, the Welsh have always eaten off slates. It not only saves on the washing up but they then use them to repair any holes in the roof.

  8. Yes I’m in total agreement with the pie thing.

    Oop norf we have the saying: “And a bit pie crust please.”

    This is what me Mam or Nan would do for me Dad if he was having steak and kidney in gravy. So alongside this they would cook a “pie crust” on the reverse of saucer and serve it with his dinner. Not a full on pie, just a pie crust.

    Who have thunk that this would be nouvelle cuisine some 40yrs later!?!

    Also I want fucking gravy! Not a reduced red wine juis, or balsamic infused sauce, I want gravy! Gravy you can stand your fork up in. Gravy made the old way with the meat juices, gravy browning and cornflower. Gravy that sticks to your chips properly and is heaven! 😋

    • Jesus christ you ought to do the adverts for Bisto!!
      That was like pornography for big northern hungry cunts!!
      Drooling still..

      • And don’t get me started on proper scratchings!

        One of the Northerners 3 food groups: beer, tabs and scratchings!

        😂😂😂

    • Last time I went to a pub for a meal (a few years ago), it was just a decent pub serving traditional grub and I had a great roast but I could see the pattern on the plate through the gravy. When I make it at home I actually can stand a fork in it, lovely.

    • “…steak and kidney in gravy. So alongside this they would cook a “pie crust” on the reverse of saucer and serve it with his dinner. Not a full on pie, just a pie crust.”

      Yup, exactly like my Mum used to do, super crispy but still able to absorb the lamb gravy, ‘kin fantastic. Aw bollocks… hungry now.

  9. When you speak to these pretentious twats about where they wined and dined, they bang on about some poncy fucking gastro with so poncy fucking name along with other poncy fucking diners and a poncy fucking menu.

    They’ll then say “oh we had the …..”and the reel off some poncy fucking items from said poncy fucking menu…..” and it was divine, darling!”

    But you secretly know they fucking hated it – small poxy portions and a huge fucking bill to follow. But they’ll never admit it in public because that would so not be the done thing to do!

    Poncy cunts

  10. What happened to cheese and onion rolls in those plastic serving shelves. Fuck me, what more do you need when you’re on a session?

  11. What about all that ‘pulled’ beef, chicken etc… crap?
    It’s just shreds of meat which you ripped from the carcass and gave it a poncey name. Cunts.

  12. Gastropub or just pub, when the meal comes out, why is it you often have to turn the plate, so it looks the right way round, according to the food arranged on it ?

    Just me then….

    The bill, please. Oh and me coat…

  13. These so-called gastropubs are the height of ginger manbun wanking huts and frequented by granola chomping limpwrists and Joules wearing school runners. I read somewhere that this overpriced load of low-grade cat food was being served up in a roofing tile in some places? What the winter fuck? Who in the hell eats their food out of a roofing tile?

    No doubt they’ll be some chin-rubbing “food critique” praising it as culinary art. Pretentious overpriced, undercooked soywank for people who are obsessed with uploading photos of what they’ve just eaten onto FaceFuck. Nobody normal even cares. The top photo is a good representation of this mental grub. Four slices of fruity toast that looks like Stuart Hall has whipped his dirty old cock out and spaffed all over it. Fuck that.

  14. Sausage, mash, peas, onions, and gravy for me please, on a plate.

    Jam roly poly and custard, or sticky toffee pudding and custard for pudding please, in a bowl.

    Then if I’m feeling a bit posh, an after eight mint.

  15. I saw somewhere food was being served on a shovel.
    The mind boggles.

    I think that Heston Bloomingcunt is partly to blame for all this shite.

  16. I’m assuming the drizzled jizz is just icing sugar right? But 32 quid is that actual price thats ridiculous i’d never pay that for cinnamon rasin toast

  17. Once went to one of these places to impress a posh bird (massive knockers)

    I was still hungry afterwards and went to McDonald’s. After spending over £100 on a ‘meal’.

    I was called ‘beouf’ something or other (I knew it meant beef so I just ordered it and pretended I knew what it was).

    I seem to recall a piece of beef about the size of a chicken nugget (ok a bit bigger but no bigger than the size of half a burger) with a couple of peas in the pod and funny orange sauce.

    And I still didn’t get a shag!

    So I really hate these places. If I see a menu in French with no pictures (notice how they don’t want you to see that their meals are so tiny that they wouldn’t satisfy Greta Thundercunt when she’s starving herself in protest), then I stand up and walk the fuck out of the door.

    Cunts.

    And yes, ‘pies’ being called pies when they only have a top crust deserve a cunting all of their own. It’s called a fucking hotpot, you cunts!

  18. If I’m served a plate of food that is small, like in those posh restaurants, I’ll always ask, “Where’s the rest of it?”

    I always like to leave full up and satisfied.

  19. Gastropubs dont stay open for long if they’re in rural areas. London twats buy them up, change the menu to trendy wank and hike up the prices. The first 3 weeks they invite their friends down to inflate the numbers, while putting off locals by filling the place with smug guardianistas, a tuna sandwich served with sweet potato wedges on a board and grapefruit-infused craft ale, just a snip at £6 a pint.

  20. Fucking Gastro Pubs, do me a favour, full of Apple iPhone owners and wanna be hipsters chugging on their vape sticks discussing the merits of vinyl over mp3.
    Up on the wall will be the obligatory push bike with a decor even Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen would disapprove of.
    Serving up Sweet Potato Fries on a bed of quinoa served with a organic bio diverse steak which has been hand reared on corn and the finest grass money can buy, a bargain at £38 a serving.

    Wankers

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