Came here after a very long train ride in order to see my dying father with a posse of close, dear friends at Wigan hospital, and while the pizza was decent, the staff were wildly potty-mouthed. It appeared to me that they couldn't go a full sentence without using colourful language, all whilst never offering any apologies. One man told my friend, Clement Farnsbarns, that he would not succeed in life, claiming that he was a 'fat temp', which to be honest is quite rude and in fact a lie because Clement a) is a 46-year-old pillar of the community and b) had a summer with JP Morgan in '23 and lives in a semi-detached down Hassocks way, so who is a fat temp now? Every roll of the eyes felt like a diss on the group. The food quality was top-notch, with a great, cosy atmosphere, and I would technically recommend it. Location is okay. However, on a sour note, staff overlooked and joined in (gang mentality) when we were being antagonised and bullied for my mate Adrian 'AIDS' Droylsden's nickname. It felt extremely unjust, and he got cornered, so I did have to make the noble and compelled decision to leave the establishment quickly so that production could continue there to the evidently consistent high standards; however, I warn you. Classism wasn't dealt with well when a lady around the bar area jeered at my dear friend Hector Papageorgiou (Hellenic Hector), when a supermarket-based conversation sprang up, and she said that he seemed 'peculiarly Farmfoods'. This was followed up with her claim that he 'appeared notably, and noticeably, impoverished (as a person)'. Staff did nothing. Overall, it was a pleasant afternoon, and I would definitely recommend a visit. Just throw shade over the caution because our hurdles were truly circumstantial. read more