Tuesday 25th April 2017.
“Your kids will love this place! It is so engaging for children. I highly recommend it. The only thing that we noticed is that some fish had a kind of infection and looked sick.”
That’s a TripAdvisor review of “Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada”, by the way. Which is in Toronto, where Roz and Duncan live. They’ve got basking sharks, moon jellies, weedy scorpionfish, piranhas, spotted garden eels, poisonous dart frogs… Also, for a small additional cost, you can coerce an African penguin into painting you a picture. I’m not sure I’ll bother. What with Brent The Chimpanzee, Cholla The Horse, Koopa… The flaming Turtle! It’s out of hand. Nowadays, I turn to arachnids for my outré artwork: plop the little critters toes in pots of poster paint; release them across a Welsh slate roof tile from the Poulton-le-Fylde job… It’s inspiring to hear disease and moribundity keeps the kids smiling.
So there was this fish in the fish tank at Tikka Masala. A miniature blue whale with an incongruously lavish anal fin and a saurian head. It ducked into some contrived deep sea relic before I could make acquaintance unfortunately. A lustrous, cobalt blue aquarium muse…
Drowned blue spectre in the small glass box,
Lizard eyes scouring those tikka lamb chops,
Like a Chantilly lace petticoat, your pulsating fin,
Distracts me from my bhaji, again and again.
The proverbial door nail Tuesday pm graveyard session is as welcome to me as a garra ruffa fish pedicure to a fagged out Kendall Jenner. I guess I’m more Kenneth Kendall.
Mongoose on draught – you just can’t escape the wildlife round here. Bottled Cobra and Kingfisher (and on it goes…). The pickle selection spiffingly presented in glass tumblers on wooden serving block. A stylish finesse complete with punky Pink yoghurty number, barely containing its angst. Only four. But so were Richard Hell and The Voidoids.
An extensive menu yielded unimaginative selections on my part: the flightless wings of baby chicks to get me going; a meaty vindaloo, to get me going. Maverick razzmatazz rocked up in the shape of saag-swaddled, char-grilled paneer; a shrunken prawn jalfezzi threatened to put the boot in. Finally, a mango malai melee – wrestling garlicky, stiff naan we tore and chomped amidst smackdowns and belly flops. Perfect night for The Undertaker.
Judge ‘Gonzo’ Pickles
Fred ‘Skippy’ Pickles