Friday was McD-Day for the McMeatball melt, MaccyD's latest addition to its deli range. Driving to work I was reminded of my mission, an omen of tastiness I hoped, as I passed the road side advert that had first caught my attention. So as I plodded through my mundane day's work, the thought of meatball heaven kept me on throughout the day. I chose McBrighouse, and around four o'clock made my move.Oh dear. Now I am not naive enough to expect my McGrub to look like the advert, but this took the biscuit. "Is this it?" I enquired of the non plussed Polish girl who served me. She shrugged and moved on to the guy next in line. I sat there looking forlorn. Meatball my arse. meatmarble would have been a more apt 
description. And it had Lettuce on it, even though I requested no salad. Green leaf on a Meatball sandwich! Sacrilege! What did the melt bit of it's name mean? For something to melt it needs to be warm, and this abomination was moist certainly not. There was no sauce, it didn't drip down your shirt, it was too small and there was the princely sum of seven meatmarbles in it. But this all paled into insignificance as I bit into it, hoping by some miracle, that it would taste the opposite of what it looked like. It didn't. In fact given the choice between this and dog food, I would now be sporting Chappie breath. I have learned one valuable lesson, and believe this should be drafted into the Declaration of Benderpendance. Never buy a meatball from a clown.
description. And it had Lettuce on it, even though I requested no salad. Green leaf on a Meatball sandwich! Sacrilege! What did the melt bit of it's name mean? For something to melt it needs to be warm, and this abomination was moist certainly not. There was no sauce, it didn't drip down your shirt, it was too small and there was the princely sum of seven meatmarbles in it. But this all paled into insignificance as I bit into it, hoping by some miracle, that it would taste the opposite of what it looked like. It didn't. In fact given the choice between this and dog food, I would now be sporting Chappie breath. I have learned one valuable lesson, and believe this should be drafted into the Declaration of Benderpendance. Never buy a meatball from a clown.
McMeatmarble (actual size), compared with those little bits of french fries you always find in the bottom of the red packet thingy.
1 comment:
did you not read the bottom of the sign?
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