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When you say deliver, do you mean as in providing the best quality large chicken kebab, and possibly a cheeky beer or two on a late Friday/early Saturday return from on the lash?

Or do you mean, are there any kebab shops that might deliver said comestible to your home?

As John Cooper-Clarke once remarked 'suffering Jesus this aint my venue' And I reckon he knows a thing or two about kebabs.

Unless you go to the kebab restaurant itself, see it being prepared before your drunk unfocussed eyes, vetoed the chilli sauce (or not, if that's your bag, man, live like you wanna live) and taken it home, having not had it wrapped in a plastic bag so that it gets all sweaty then you're not really a kebab person, and should stick to the safer forms of home delivery.

You know the ones. In the time it has taken me to type this, there'll have been a half-dozen of those menus thrust through your letterbox. Jolly good many will be an' all.

So the rules of kebab are:

1. I will always be outside my home, preferably on the way back there when I become involved with one.

2. Prior to this I will have taken, with friends, an immoderate amount of alcohol.

3. The effect said alcohol will have on me, will be to dull my senses to a degree that I think I can pull a 20 year old in the kebab house, but not to the extent that I'm prepared to fight her 18 year old boyfriend, who will tell me that if I'm prepared to 'diss' him he wil take me outside and 'f@ck me up'. He will also confidently inform me that if by some fluke I better him in combat, he has confederates who will trace me to my home address and seek retribution on his behalf.

4. Realise that though I have taken on board an injudicious amount of alcohol, I have no desire to become a crime statistic.

5. Raise my upturned palms and slightly bent elbows in the internationally recognised gesture for 'what a terrible misunderstanding, how could we two reasonable people have come to this?'

6. Watch couple snatch their food from friendly (but when it comes to siding with anyone is Swiss in his neutrality) proprieter, and leave, with some teeth-kissing that I imagine is directed at the amount of time they've been kept waiting. Possibly.

7. Order a large chicken kebab. And two/three/four beers.

8. Reject chilli sauce.

9. Accept plastic bag to carry home the polystyrene pod.

10.Do not allow it to be tied up. Let your kebab breathe. It was once a living thing you know.

11.Walk home.

12.Put oven on low heat. Place polysterene pod on tray in oven.

13.Turn on DVD and TV and insert series 9 of Seinfeld. Open first of beers. Laugh immoderately at series 9 of Seinfeld. Open second and third of beers. Fall asleep.

14.Awake at 8:15am on Saturday morning.

15.Get kebab from oven. Burn hands.

16.Eat kebab for breakfast with leftover beer.

17.Wish you'd had the chilli sauce after all.

18.Shrug philosophically, and watch the final episode of Seinfeld, knowing it's not that good, but knowing that you must.


Know that no matter how poor the experience of buying a kebab form a shop might be, it can't possibly be as appalling as having one delivered.

Surely having a kebab delivered misses the whole point of a kebab, which is to lurch drunkenly home with it and then see the container in the bin the next morning but not remember having actually eaten what it contained, but you know you must have done because the kebab isn't there :))


HonaloochieB, thanks for making me laugh :))

yes yes yes: you see the crux of my dilemma was that I had partaken of a few aspalls. while being a delicious and intoxicating beverage leading one to favour the lamb shish as a form of essential evening nourishment, it does come in rather large volume, presenting those of the smaller bladder (and often of the female persuasion) with a conundrum.


Go to kebab shop and risk pant-wetting for the sake of a tasty and nutritious (and be-chilli-sauced HB!) evening morsel, or go home, head to toilet, breathe sight of relief and order something from the regular home delivery services. pizza or curry were not what I had on my mind though.


I didn't think it through before posting. in a flash, the answer came to me on the bus: plan c was that I went to the kebab shop, and there I made use of their facilities, thus ensuring that I was suitably sated and unhumiliated.


hurrah for kebab and wine, and boo for cider-induced befuddlement

Keef Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> I love chicken Shish with all the salad, but get a

> few beers down me, and it's a similar story to

> HonaloochieB's above, and it's doner with very

> little greenery!


Rules is rules. If you've had a dozen pints you'll be needing a large donor on the way home and no fecking salad! Maybe add a few tomatoes and loads of chilli sauce. If they have those raw green chillies as well whack a few of those in too. Bloody marvellous!

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