Who wants a heart attack?!
WHO: Macbeth and Alfred and anyone who wishes clogged arteries
WHEN: Wednesday (18th November) Evening
WHERE: The Frying Scotsman, a chippy in a small Scottish community that is so Scottish, Scotland isn't Scottish enough for them.
WHAT: Welcome to the wonder that is a chippy, all food guaranteed to have had a least one dip in the deep fat fryer.
RATED: C for Calories...it's Scotland and America, what else would you expect?
For once in the time Macbeth had been working at Le Masion De Perfection, his sectary Helen had done something useful. "Who would have thought." He muttered, cringing slightly at the amount of tartan curtains that seemed to fill most of the homes in the area. The further you are from home, the more patriotic you become seemed to ring worryingly true around here. Shaking his head, he pulled out it his phone, texting Rode'ich to let him know that he was eating out tonight...possibly the first time he was telling the Austrian that and it actually being true.
Okay, so technically it was a take away and he'd probably have it all eaten up by the time he got back to their house so Rode'ich would be none the wiser.
At the end of the street, in bright blue letters, was the name of what he was looking for: The Frying Scotsman. Okay so the name was incredibly lame and fitted in with cliché that the area seemed determine to show Liberty but a chippy was a chippy and, no matter how good he was making it with his own mini fryer, it wasn't the same as having a proper supper. Studying the menu he almost felt like a kid in a sweet shop. Fish, sausage (both battered or smoked), steak pie, king rib, black pudding, haggis, crunch pizza and even the fable stonner. There was only one other person in the store (well, it had always been Fridays for the chippy back home so he shouldn't be surprise) though he seemed to be struggling on what to choose. "If they're as guid as the wans back h'me, ah'd suggest the stonner." Macbeth offered helpfully as he glanced at the boy then the rather frustrated looking member of staff, not bothering to mention that if you had one of those you really should fast for the next week or so.
WHEN: Wednesday (18th November) Evening
WHERE: The Frying Scotsman, a chippy in a small Scottish community that is so Scottish, Scotland isn't Scottish enough for them.
WHAT: Welcome to the wonder that is a chippy, all food guaranteed to have had a least one dip in the deep fat fryer.
RATED: C for Calories...it's Scotland and America, what else would you expect?
For once in the time Macbeth had been working at Le Masion De Perfection, his sectary Helen had done something useful. "Who would have thought." He muttered, cringing slightly at the amount of tartan curtains that seemed to fill most of the homes in the area. The further you are from home, the more patriotic you become seemed to ring worryingly true around here. Shaking his head, he pulled out it his phone, texting Rode'ich to let him know that he was eating out tonight...possibly the first time he was telling the Austrian that and it actually being true.
Okay, so technically it was a take away and he'd probably have it all eaten up by the time he got back to their house so Rode'ich would be none the wiser.
At the end of the street, in bright blue letters, was the name of what he was looking for: The Frying Scotsman. Okay so the name was incredibly lame and fitted in with cliché that the area seemed determine to show Liberty but a chippy was a chippy and, no matter how good he was making it with his own mini fryer, it wasn't the same as having a proper supper. Studying the menu he almost felt like a kid in a sweet shop. Fish, sausage (both battered or smoked), steak pie, king rib, black pudding, haggis, crunch pizza and even the fable stonner. There was only one other person in the store (well, it had always been Fridays for the chippy back home so he shouldn't be surprise) though he seemed to be struggling on what to choose. "If they're as guid as the wans back h'me, ah'd suggest the stonner." Macbeth offered helpfully as he glanced at the boy then the rather frustrated looking member of staff, not bothering to mention that if you had one of those you really should fast for the next week or so.