Had the pleasure of a hefty and delicious seafood Italian meal 'somewhere In England, south of Potters Bar' during the week It included calamari - battered and fried octopus rings. I'm fine with those; delicious in fact. But when I explored toward the mountain in the middle of the plate I found this:
Perhaps it's just me but there was a distinct psychological barrier to consumption here.
Maybe Brexit was right after all?
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