b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Crap meals out » Page 13 | Search
This is a question Crap meals out

I'd chosen to take my in-laws to one of my favourite restaurants, only to discover it had changed hands the week before. We waited half an hour to get menus. The waitress broke the cork in the wine we ordered. She got our order wrong. The food was luke-warm, mine was overcooked, the rest was undercooked. After waiting another 40 minutes for the last course, we were told that we couldn't have any as the chef had "forgotten to de-frost the puddings".

Let's just say they didn't get a tip. Tell us of your crap meals out.

(, Thu 27 Apr 2006, 14:22)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Bella Pasta and the Sauciest Waiter Ever
The missus and I found ourselves in the Bella Pasta on London's glittering Shaftsbury Avenue a few weeks ago. The food was aces and the wine... Well, the wine helped us block out the inevitable tramp who ambled in halfway through to grunt "Rose for the lady?". Wanting just a swift bite before we dashed off to enjoy the capital, our bill came to precisely £30.

When it came to pay, I handed the waiter two £20 notes and he strutted off to bring my change. About five minutes later, he slunk back up to me with a £10 note on a tray.

"You, err... You want the ten?" he asked.

Strangely enough, a 33% tip wasn't on offer.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 16:57, Reply)
I was once very hungry and had no money.
So I ate a chewit I found on the floor.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 16:30, Reply)
a reply to micky2shoes and a story.
thanks for your advice but if you read closely my girlfriend was FRENCH so what language do you think she ordered in/spoke? I'll give you a clue, it's not the medium of dance! I speak passable French as well as German, Spanish and a little Italian so why is it when I visit any country other than France I get good service even if I don't speak a word of the local language? If you can't draw your own conclusions I'll get you some crayons.
now then off that subject and back on the proper one. as I have previously mentioned I spent a bit of time in HM forces. one time I was involved in a massive exercise on Otterburn, North Yorkshire, which is about as inviting as the moors at begining of An American Werewolf in London and it was early December. I was used to cooking for myself but we were informed No, there's central feeding, field kitchens. Bloody great, army cooking is not the best but at least its warm grub, lots of it and plenty bread and butter and tea. As my platoon arrived at the field kitchen there is a near riot going on; picture 100 cold wet and hungry squaddies all looking forward to hot grub only to be served...... SALAD!
in December,
on Otterburn,
it was minus 4!!
what was the chefs response, to heat up the cole slaw so it became "hot slaw" FACKIN TWUNT!!!!!
no apologies for length you love it you flithy bitch
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 16:07, Reply)
The Wong Kei
First time i had chinese food was there, certainly was an experience.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 15:46, Reply)
The Wong Kei
I too have experienced the amazing service at the Wong Kei in Chinatown..

Having sat down for a full 60seconds;

Waiter: "You ready to order now, or I give table to other people..."
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 15:34, Reply)
Went to a chinese restaurant
got the main course and started eating it throughout the meal i felt like i was being watched, i told the waiter about this and he said don't worry sir it's a pe - king duck!

crap meal crap joke

I'll leave now....
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 15:06, Reply)




(, Wed 3 May 2006, 14:35, Reply)
Bombay Mix, Broad Street, Birmingham
The food is very nice, but don't go in there without a trained negotiator.

The waiters are obviously ex-double glazing salesmen who quit their former job because it was 'too easy'. It took several hours of intense debate to persuade them that no, we didn't want starters. For the main course the waiter insisted we hadn't ordered enough rice (there was plenty), and tried to add naan bread to the order that we hadn't asked for - cross that off now, matey. While I was counting out the payment, he apparently said pointedly "service isn't included". I didn't hear him - I was told afterwards - if I'd heard him I'd have bloody well taken back the tip we left.

Instead I'm posting about it on here. Rewenge is sweet. And we won't be coming back, you pushy gits.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 14:18, Reply)
Butterfly Kisses
On Saturday at a friends bbq a friend of mine started eating his cheapo burger from Tesco's. 'Mmmmm, lovely!' he said.

A couple of bites in and he chews into something a bit tougher... 'Eeek!' I quote, 'What could this possibly be?'.

Never in a million years would he have guessed that it would be an eyelid, with big hairy cow lashes still attached. No sir-ee.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 13:53, Reply)
I'll tell you about it
when I've got this pube out the back of my throat
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 13:31, Reply)
Not a restaurant story but...
I was once invited to a Spanish arts' councillor's house for dinner. This was a truly fascinating experience. He greeted us wearing nothing but a pair of greying shorts and more eyeliner than I wear on a night out. Not only this, but he kept sort of lowering his shorts periodically, presumably to air his testicles or something. Ugh. However, despite their bizarre appearance and naturist tendencies, Miguel and his wife were lovely people and we all got on extremely well - that is, until dinner, when we were presented with the Basque "delicacy" of stewed pigs´trotters.

I am not a fussy eater. I will try anything as long as it doesn´t contain peppers, frankfurters or marmalade. I am not squeamish about eating things just because they´re weird, or foreign, or even because they look disgusting. I´ve tried everything from sushi to sauerkraut and liked most of it. So believe me when I say that these pigs´trotters were not fit for human consumption. It was seriously THE most repulsive thing I have ever seen in my entire life. The smell alone was bad enough, but once I started picking at it, I rapidly discovered that it contained no meat as such, but a sort of flaccid, glutinous, gristly, fatty substance....it was at this point that I realised that despite all the trouble our hosts had gone to to cook us this traditional dish, I was not going to be able to bring myself to eat a mouthful of it. In fact, I was beginning to feel decidedly sick. A cursory glance round the table confirmed that my compatriates were looking equally green. The Spaniards claimed not to be the slightest bit offended by our refusal to touch their gourmet concoction, but I can´t help feeling that relations may have been slightly damaged.

Come back Judaism, all is forgiven.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 13:19, Reply)
The Pride of Bilbao
I had the misfortune to be stuck on a ferry for 36 hours watching dire cabaret with chav families. I also had the misfortune not to have thought of bringing enough sandwiches to last the trip, and thus found myself eating a nasty chicken korma in the canteen.

It wasn't that bad at the time - stodgy, overpriced and devoid of nutritional value, but by no means poisonous...or so I thought.

Fast forward to the following morning, when I curled off a noxious pile of pure filth. I'm only 5ft2, and would never have guessed that the bowels of such a little person could have contained the sheer quantity of excrement that came out of them. The smell was so bad I was forced to take my top off to cover my mouth and nose. It was like shitting radioactive waste.

I have no idea what was in that curry and the possibility that my body might actually have absorbed some of those toxins horrifies me to this day.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 13:10, Reply)
The Wong Kei
Legendary Chinese restaurant off Leicester Square.

Diner to Waiter: This food is cold.
Waiter to Diner: You no like it, you no fucking eat it.

Service extraordinaire.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 12:49, Reply)
All he wanted was a child
Ok so it didnt happen to me but to a friend, it was such a good story I put it into poetry form

Little Red Riding Hood,
Went out to the wood,
To see her favourite Nan.
But firstly she ate some Kellog’s All Bran.
Then hurriedly she went,
Before Nasty Wolf could pick up her scent,
In this dark and lonely wood.
As Nasty Wolf would poke her if he could.
In the wolf’s belly went little red’s Nan,
Will the shit hit the fan?
Little Red Riding Hood went into the house,
Nasty Wolf stayed quite as a mouse,
Hoping to find the Nan she loved so much.
She found a gender confused wolf hiding his crutch,
“Why what a hairy face you have” she exclaimed,
“Fuck off you cheeky cunt” the wolf proclaimed.
Little Red had forgotten about the Kellog’s All Bran
She ate before seeing her favourite Nan.
Her bowels squeezed , flipped and spat,
And Little Red and Nasty Wolf got into accidental scat.
The Nasty Wolf ran off
But started too cough,
With a gasp and a wheeze,
Out popped Nan smelling of stilton cheese.
The wood chopper came and swung his axe.
Now Little Red and her Nan can relax.
Thank heavens the wolf is no more,
As Nan pimps Little Red out as a dirty whore
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 11:11, Reply)
Cairns Kebab Massacre.....
Again not strictly on topic as it was more of a take away experience than a sit down fiasco. While I was living in Australia 'way up norf' I used to go to a most excellent bar/nightclub called 'The Woolshed' also known as 'The backpackers Royal Dance Academy'. Anyhoo after another night of jug after jug of Victoria Bitter I leave the place at around 3am with a hunger so great I considered ringing Bob Geldof to stage a concert. I stopped at one of the many kebab/pizza counters along the esplanade and bought myself a lovely chicken kebab with plenty of garlic sauce and other assorted sauces lovingly wrapped in flimsy style takeaway paper. I start to drunkenley zig-zag my way back to my place munching on said kebab and pluck my eybrows and call me sally if I don't keep having to pick little bits of sauce soaked paper out of my teeth. But I've got the beer hunger so it's more than worth putting up with. I get to my front door and have one of those moments of drunken clarity thinking that I don't want to stain my nice jeans with all the sauce on my fingers, so kebab finished I look into one hand for a napkin and there's nothing to be found, 'bloody skinflits' thinks I. Nevermind I'll make the best job I can with the wrapper the kebab came in, I look into the other hand an all I see is kebab sauces and a set of keys. Now I'm normally a bit of a 'save the planet'/ 'keep the country tidy' type of bloke anyway, but especially so now that I was living in Oz and everywhere is so tidy. Gradually it dawns on me and I think to myself,"You sad greedy pissed-up bastard" Yep, I'd eaten it, a sheet of soggy kebab wrapper about the size of a sheet of A4 paper.

Got to say it made me feel pretty queasy but nothing matched the dissapointment the morning after when I went for my moring bathroom routine. I sat exciteley on the pot and let rip and turned to look in the bowl with a wide eyed, excited expreesion a kid has opening a window on their advent calender, you guessed it no little gift wrapped poo presents as I was expecting just your run of the mill morning after Golgothen shit demon.

Length? You wouldn't want it on your nose as a wart!!
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 10:00, Reply)
I didn't find a condom in my burger...
but I did find a hair in my twix. It was long, blond (mine is longish but dark), and firmly embedded in the caramel. In fact, it was halfway down my throat before I knew it was there; cue much gagging as I pulled it back up.

I complained to Masterfoods (or whoever own Twix), and with this letter of complaint, I sent them the offending hair wrapped around a cotton bud. They sent my £6 worth of vouchers, which no shop ever accepted. Bastards.
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 9:51, Reply)
Perfect Fried Chicken (spine!)
I'm a student in the East End (oh, it's wonderful!), and the most abundant fast-food places are KFC variants. (These)

One near me seemed tasty enough after a few pints, so I buy some chicken and chips, to partake of in my room.

Eating one of the fairly boneless bits like a mule eatin' an apple, (I think it was a side, it seemed so) I crunched something that didn't seem right, and paused for a moment, gobbing it back out onto the plate - and lo - what I thought was a single bone was in fact it's spine, little vertebrae bits with the cord going through the middle, surrounded by chewed chicken.

Normally I'm not that squeamish, but my stomach didn't agree - and subsequently spewed in my sink.

Not exactly a restaraunt meal out like the other b3tans have posted, but it looked like chicken before I discovered it's back.

I don't frequent that establishment no mores.

Sorry for length, it's my first post (woo!) after reading the boards for a few months. :)
(, Wed 3 May 2006, 0:59, Reply)
France is the dog's, and not in a good way.

On a school trip around the turn of the century, we were all bundled to the Lille equivalent of Harvester and Wimpy rolled into one. Being veggie, I was handed a meal slip that said something on it, quite possibly 'légumes' or maybe 'végétarien'. I gave it to the big French serving lady, and got a steaming plate of fresh roast chicken. Oui, très bien!
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 22:13, Reply)
A friend of mine once used to work in a greasy spoon in the city. Naturally he would come across many lovely folks, and several uptight businessmen.

One day, a particularly uptight businessman with severe penis compensation issues decided to have breakfast there, throughout the course of which he managed to be so howwible to his female waitress that she was found crying in the back room.

The cockwaggler then asked where the toilet was.


My friend coated the doorhandle to the toilet in chilli powder, before he arrived to it.

The man proceeds to open it, unzip his fly and cover his unprotected manhood in hot-as-fuck-turkish-owned-greasy-spoon-chilli-powder.

He sat back down again, uneasy in his seat, before letting out an almighty yelp, and running back to the toilet.


Apologies for my small willy
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 21:39, Reply)
Given Good Head
Bilbao, Spain.

After a cultural day staring at the vast empty spaces and giant flowery puppy of the Guggenheim, my mate and I headed into the back streets of the old town, and chose somewhere that might feed us. Somewhere untouristy. Somewhere without an English menu. Armed with a seemingly rather deficient phrase book, we half translate the menu. Pollo is chicken; Cordero, it seems, is lamb, etc. No idea what the other bit is, but how bad can it be? The waiter looks quizical when I order the lamb, but I confirm, and off he trots.

Anyway, starters, and a few drinks later, and we've forgotten what we've ordered, as you do. My dish looks a bit like a small bird, a guinea fowl, perhaps, split in two. I'm about to tuck in when my loyal companion alerts me to something I'd previously missed.

"Mate," he says. "Your dinner's got teeth"

And it had. A full set. And eye sockets. A quick scan of the phrase book, away from the eating out section, and into the medical injuries chapter, and there was the missing word that I presumed to mean "roast", or "drizzled in a redcurrant jus" or some such. Cabeza. The Spanish for head. A lamb's head, cleft in two, grinning at me in a way I'd really prefer my dinner not to.

I sort of lost my appetite around then.

(After that, ordering pig's ears for a snack later in the trip was a positive highlight)
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 21:14, Reply)
Devil Food!
Not, it must be said, in any way the fault of the probably lovely staff at some generic Far Eastern nosher in central Amsterdam, but entirely the fault of myself and five 50+ year olds including my mum, god bless her.

I was there with said bunch of 50+ers because my dad had dropped out of said Holland trip and there was a free spare ticket. Once we got there it was all "You're young, you must buy weed for us and show us how to smoke it." As if they hadn't been stoned off their tits most of the sixties, but I wasn't complaining.

By the time we got to the eaterie, only two of them could still read, and all they could manage to say was "everything." I was feeling in completely control, serenely indifferent to everything, although it had to be admitted that I couldn't read either.

A banquet of Michelle Winner proportions appeared, but I then spent the entire meal in fear for my life as I KNEW I could hear the demon chef cackling from the kitchen as he prepared his selection of lightly broiled foreigners guts in spring rolls and chopped up worn-out hooker satay. I could see the evil gleam in the cannibal waitresses eyes and they slipped the sleeping power in our Tiger beers and prepared to drag us to the kitchens. The meat glistened, the colour of evil. I could hear the giggling of the waiters as they hid behind various pillars and partitions whenever you spun round to try to catch them at it, but they had already made themselves invisible. We were the only ones in the restaurant. Clearly because everyone else had already been cooked and eaten.

The only way I could communicate our desperate plight to my fellows was by trying to behave completely normally, so as not to block the airwaves, and wait for them to pick up on the signs too.

But they never did- strange but true.
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 20:04, Reply)
Not me..
But a friend. Seriously, I'm a vegetarian AND a male, so this story is not about me.

Said friend, who shall be known as C.T., had never been a fan of seafood. But at a free buffet, well she just couldn't resist. She's a student. Free food. Geddit?

So she's snacking on prawns etc, and gets to the oysters. She's never had one, so in it goes and halfway through chewing the moist mollusc her eyes lose focus and a she makes a strange noise.

Her bf says 'never had oyster before?'

C.T. shakes her head

'd'you know how they cook it?'


'they don't. d'you know how they kill it?'


'they don't'

He's a lovely chap I swear.
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 19:40, Reply)
slightly off topic, as i wasnt out.....
not a meal out, but i once attempted to make myself a chillie salad sandwich, which i microwaved to warm the chillie. microwaved cucumber isnt very nice.

apologies for irrelevance and bad cooking.

actually another similarly bad meal in, i had an omlette, and decided it would be nice to have some toast on the side, popped it in the toaster next to me and duly forgot about it
started to wonder why i could no longer see my plate, and came to realise that the room was filled with smoke, oops i think, left the oven on again, oh how silly of me! so i walk over to the other side of the room and check the oven, which is decidedly not on, or smoking in any discernable way. how strange. so i turn back round to return to my meal and notice the 6 inch flames coming out of the top of the toaster i'd been sat next to.....
i also once managed to set fire to spaggetti, and, my personal best - rice!
i dont think i've ever had a meal out that could compare to how bad/dangerous my own cooking is
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 19:32, Reply)
I once got sausage, chips and gravy from a chip-shop
The woman behind the counter tentatively placed the sausage atop the pile of chips, and said "Mind that sausage doesn't fall off."

Being slighty pissed, I laughed it off, said "Yeah sure" and on my way out the door, struck a silly pose on one leg with one hand in the air whilst I went "Wooooooaaahhh!" whilst jiggling the tray of chips in the other hand.

The sausage promptly fell onto the pavement causing much ridicule from my friends who still rib me about it to this day.

Poetic justice.
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 18:56, Reply)
Ariba Ariba Mexicana in Norwich
The food was actually pretty damned good, but i ruined a romantic meal for 2. (only for the luvverly lady).

The restaurant were running real late, we knew the chef and they asked if we would like cocktails - on the bill of course.
After having been in the vodka bar, this was all the fuel we needed.

It became later, and at around 10pm we sat down for our 9pm table - pissed out of our little pseudo mexican faces.

There was about 8 of us, and it was getting rowdy although it was all in the best of humour. When our main course came out, my fat-bastard big pile of wings, ribs, chilli looked amazing and in i tucked. About 5 mins later i was asked, "Bazza - hows your meal"
"Its so good i could stick my cock in it" i immediatley replied - whilst starting to stand and pretended to undo my jeans.

My tex-mex buddies laughed hard.

The group of students on the next table near choked to death on their tortillas.

The romantic couple however were of decidely mixed opinion. The gentlemen, he spat his dinner back out whilst laughing.

Ahh, but the lovely lady - she was not amused. She demanded the bill and that they should leave immediately. The poor bloke had to first try to stop his giggling fit whilst being brow beaten by the humorless monster of a lady, then eat the remnants of his dinner before getting the bill. No amount of begging and promising would make her even have some coffee.

I feel i must apologise to the poor guy whom clearly got no sex that night, from a good looking woman that clearly he had to pay for by chopping up his soul and feeding it to her for her amusement.

I hope he got away. Part of a crap meal is definitely the company - and in contrast to me he looked like he has crap meals lined up for life.

#less of a pop, more of a whimper#

lurking makes me feel good
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 18:36, Reply)
Crap meals out
I went to a posh restaurant and ordered a big fat fillet steak with hand cut fries.... The fries were disgusting. The chippy round the corner had better chips. So when the pompous waiter asked if everything was ok, I merely suggested that the chef should change the oil the fries were cooked in because they were so poor. He offered the excuse 'Well they are hand cut. Sir !' ...

So the chef had to cut a potato ? It was at that point that I told the wee pompous fanny to fuck off ! .. I was then ejected from the premisies.. quality cos I'd arsed a bottle of wine and finished the steak and I didn't have to pay :)
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 18:15, Reply)
I got chilli on my cock.

(, Tue 2 May 2006, 17:52, Reply)
Vegetarian Pizza
In Madeira one Christmas, feeling a bit homesick and wanting something familiar, I thought I'd have a pizza at one of the many "italian" restaurants in evidence. I ordered a vegetarian pizza. But what was this? It seems the chef had boiled up some onion, carrots and peas and poured them (in their cooking water) over a pizza base - no tomato, no cheese, wet and tasteless. But no arguments - it was vegetarian.

I thought it was just Portuguese cooking, but then this year in France I had almost the same experience. Dining in Nice, I ordered a veggie pizza from the menu. The chef this time just tipped some ratatouile over a base, no cheese. Disgusting but unarguably a veggie pizza (vegan probably).
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 17:48, Reply)
french food and service
oi tartful splodge -
as a paris resident, and a regular travller to montpellier, i found there's a way to ensure good service - be polite, smile,speak the language, and all is well. the only bad service i've had here was in a o'paddys plastic irish boozer.... and had lots of excellent food, superb service, and as to wine - you carry on with the new world ribena, leave wine to the grown ups.
I spend most of my time in parts foreign, so have eaten in a lot of restarants - and as the company pay, they're inevitably good ones. you rather gve the game away with the comment about new world wines being cheaper - i suspect you read menu prices before going into a restaurant, on the basis that cheaper=better....
follow basic rules. don't eat in empty restaurants. dont arrive 5 mins before closing and expect them to be over the moon to see you.
if you dont like something, complain. if the waiter is rude and insulting, let them know that you understood the insults, and replying that you think they are rude, ignorant of foods, and badly brought up usually does the trick.
calgulus - spot on.
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 17:41, Reply)
Funniest crap meal out I ever had - I'm still enjoying it, in fact!
I was out in town with the then boyf, who bought me a large hot slice of pizza and himself a lovely pie.

I suggested that we sit on a bench to enjoy these delicacies, and strolled over to one and sat down.

However, Boyf decided to unwrap his pie and start eating it right away. It immediately fell out of his hand and splattered on the ground, and was mobbed by appreciative pigeons.

Boyf's face was a picture - stricken with greed and horror, and a sudden hatred of pigeons.

I was doubled up with laughter and nearly choked on my pizza.

Boyf stamped away, purple with rage, while the pigeons and I finished eating.

Two years later, I only need to glance at a pigeon to wind him up. On the rare occasions that he doesn't take the bait, I murmer a remark about how well-fed the pigeons are around here.

My pizza was nice though.
(, Tue 2 May 2006, 17:39, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1