Sixteen Quid For A Beefburger?

Latest news from the Nogger on Tour Circus. Woke up feeling 100% fine and dandy Saturday morning, developed a severe case of 'man flu' during the day as Mrs Nogger#3 helpfully refers to it, the heartless cow.

Forced to produce a PowerPoint presentation against my will, my first ever, on the Sunday. Despite feeling like sh1te, and off my trolley on Lemsip Max Strength, eventually drag out my speech for Tuesday.

Check into the hotel Monday night, starving hungry, have a few Buds in the bar just to be sociable. The barman, Sebastian, offers me a shuftie at the bar menu as I'm more than peckish.

It's sixteen quid for a beefburger! A beefburger. Not even a happy meal, not a plastic Buzz Lightyear in sight, a chuffin beefburger. No coke option, nothing.

That's a bit steep Sebastian old mate, I volunteer.

"It is, how you say, 21 days mature," says Sebastian (he's not, how you say, 'from round here').

Christ! Sixteen quid and it's not even fresh!

"It comes with, errr, hand-cut chips," adds Sebastian hopefully.

It would need to come with Kylie hand-cutting them naked at the foot of my bed at that price I suggest. Unfortunately it doesn't.

More as we get it....