Dear friends, ask not “Why?” but “WHHHHHYYYYYY??? Why would you return to the tedious taste-bud trial that resulted in your worst scotch egg experience?!”
Well, we’d respond by firstly saying “we love your passion“. Secondly, we’d say “it’s great to see a fellow fervid fan of triple alliteration“. And thirdly, we’d utter that “we were hopeful that they had seen our first review and righted their wrong’uns“.
Bad news egg aficionados; it was worse. We were back at the Great British Beer Festival in London where The Crusty Pie Company were quite possibly serving the same batch of scotch eggs as the year before.
As you can see from the image accompanying this post, it was as dry as dust. Much like the self-centred businessman wimp in a crime thriller who acts like a tough guy but can’t handle interrogation, it cracked and fell apart at first sight of a knife. If it could wet itself, it would have. Thinking about it, the moisture would have been useful.
It was like chewing Play-Doh with the rubber tyre of a LEGO Technic car in the middle. Our mouths clicked and tongue-sticked as we grimaced and reached for a beverage to wash the horror away.
We can’t talk about it any more. It seems apt that our unlucky thirteenth review should receive a score of 13% – our lowest score yet.
The Scotched Egg 