Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Sir Francis Drake reviews his Subway sandwich experience
Tally ho, chaps! Now, before I begin, if I find out that any French or Spanish people are reading this I will have them arrested and thrown in prison, so bloody clear off. Anyway. Most of the time when I am hungry I jump on my horse and go for a jolly hunt somewhere in the woods like every fine English gentleman does. However, today it is raining, and flushing out the pheasants is a ghastly business in the wet so I decided to pop along to that new Subway sandwich place to see what the fuss is all about. And by golly, was it exciting – I even saw William Shakespeare in the queue! I know he can’t write for shit but his wife has a cracking little arse on her and I let out a chortle when I heard him pronounce ‘jalapeno’ incorrectly.
When I first walked in to the place the door made a ‘ting-a-ling’ sound which I hadn’t ever heard before. I thought we were under attack but it turns out that a bell was attached to the door via a complex rope-and-pulley system. I had no idea that the sandwich industry had progressed so much over the last few years.
The man behind the counter asked me what bread I wanted. “However the Earl of Sandwich has it!” I boomed, leading him to look at me as if I was a Frenchman taking a shit on his doorstep. Then I saw the actual bread selection and asked for an Italian herb ‘n’ cheese.
Now the questions started to come thick and fast – do I want extra cheese? Would I like it toasted? Had I heard about the sub of the day? I was feeling a bit under pressure so I decided to play for time. “Good God man are you the Spanish Inquisition?” I asked, before spotting ‘meatball marinara’ up on the menu board. Although I had no idea what it was I didn’t get to where I am today without taking any chances. “And don’t spare the marinara stuff either,” I said, fixing him with one of my steely gazes. Annoyingly my eye started to itch so it probably looked like I chickened out when I started rubbing it. Finally, with the transaction completed, I grabbed my sandwich and ran all the way home so as to feast in private.
Oh drat and blast! I forgot to get my Subway membership card stamped.