Lovin’ Waterford: The Sandwiches At My Granny’s Wake Were A Fucking Disgrace

AT Lovin’ Waterford, we don’t ask for much… we like our beer to be hoppy, our whiskeys sour, our chicken wings spicy and our sandwiches to be juuuuust right. After all, how hard can a sandwich be? Uh, hello, it’s just artisanal gluten-free bread, avocado, falafel and sun-dried tomatoes! Fuck sake, like! So consider us traumatised after attending our grandmother’s wake last night, only to discover that the only ‘wiches on offer were ham and/or cheese on sliced-fucking-pan.

Sliced. Pan. Are you even right now?

Food aside, okay, we just want to talk for a sec about the atmos. It. Was like. Someone fucking died in that place. No beats, no smoking area, no wine, not even little bowls of warm lemon water to wash our hands in. We had to make do with a little bowl of cold water with a palm frond in it, and we had to queue fucking ages for it. But we were fucked if we were eating with grubby hands. Can you image?

One thing we will say, the service here was PROMPT. Like almost straight away we were offered tea and ‘ambos. But that’s where our joy ended; we didn’t even get to pick what tea we wanted. How about a Chai? Lil Chai tea? No? Chai? Is anyone even fucking listening back there?

That’s when we seen them, guys… the sandwiches. Are you having an actual giraffe delivered to your house from like fucking Africa or somewhere.

They looked like something you would see in a fucking lunchbox.

One sandwich just had ham on it; actual ham.

Not only that, we couldn’t even eat without people coming up to shake our hands. Sorry for your trouble, they’d say. Yeah, right with you pal. Our trouble with these fucking shockin’ sands right here. Oh, you mean gran in the box over there? Oh yeah, forgot about her. Look, she’s not important. Someone run down the shops and get me a burrito. Sick of this shit.

Rating- MINUS FIVE COFFINS.