I arrived at this venue known as Wetherspoons last night after delving through the more common areas of Eastbourne. I got exactly what I expected from this so-called establishment, my fellow members of the GCC were also not enthused with adequate service and the lack of upper class citizens.
I'll start with the "entrance" for lack of a better word, I was appalled by the states of the entire complex. From entering I was beguiled by a shattered glass door which I can only assume was vandalised by local hoodlum and bandits. As I was safely ushered in by my bodyguards, we proceeded past the bar which was riddled with middle aged divorced men, living out their days drunk in a famished facility. We sat at table 50 and I couldn't even bare to put down my napkin on the table let alone a plate for it was daubed with an unidentifiable sticky substance; I wish to remain ignorant of the chemicals on the furniture for it is best for my sanity. I'm sure I don't need to say but the GCC were not impressed whatsoever.
Henceforth, I had to get one of my bodyguards to cleanse and polish the table before I could bare to even look at it. Time seemed to be distorted for I was ageing at an extortionate rate; the natives of the town are ungodly and I dare not speak of their language and jargon. It had been 20 minutes since I saw the first staff member that trudged past. I believe it was Robert Louis Stevenson who described the atmosphere as "pale and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation," I was shaken to the core.
The food, was served on filthy cutlery, I would struggle to believe that it had been washed since the birth of our lord and saviour, Nicolas Cage
If I speak any more of the incredulous experience I fear I may be indebted to years in psychiatric therapy! Nevertheless I pursue in order to keep my fellow GCC companions safe from the place some call "Spoons"; in my eyes, it is the home of the Devil himself. Stay far away.
2 stars.
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