The Savoy, London

It seems that my previous two reviews have been of a somewhat downmarket nature, and someone of such a refined palate and sensitive outlook is deserving of a more select quality of cuisine. Therefore when I was talking to Filly on the blower the other night, I mentioned this lack of quality dining. She mentioned she had been getting good regular portions recently, so bully for her! But I had been missing out and requested she suggest somewhere I could go. She burst out laughing and said that several destinations had just suddenly presented themselves to her. I asked her for the details or directions. There was more screaming laughter from Little Dozey-on-the-Wold. After calming down she mentioned a little hostelry that had just opened and which was doing great food and a roaring business. I asked her where this was - turns out it is in HAMPSHIRE for God's sake! HAMPSHIRE!? Now you know I will go anywhere for a good meal (provided it is within about half a mile of the Groucho Club), but HAMPSHIRE? Talk about the back of beyond! I mentioned something about the difficulty of getting somewhere as remote and primitive as Hampshire, when Filly cut across me and said something about "Christ! You and your precious bloody London - go and review the sodding works at the Savoy then you arrogant tosser!" - and she hung up. Honestly, since I took her to Deptford her language has been appalling. Who would have guessed her mouth was capable of such rudery! But her suggestion had given me an idea. I hadn't reviewed the Savoy since at least four weeks before Christmas, so off to the Strand it was for me!

Luncheon at the Savoy is always a treat and I knew I would be in for a special meal, but I was amazed what they had done with the decor as I first approached. The exterior was like a Banksy work, lots of wooden fencing had been put around the windows and plastic sheeting had replaced the Art Deco doors. As I pulled one of these to one side and entered, it was a brave new world that I encountered. This was like an installation at the Tate Modern. The boring old chandeliers, Charles Rennie-MacKintosh windows and art deco plasterwork had been removed and replaced with dust, bare light bulbs on wires and many cement mixers. It was so exciting! I wandered around the vast open space where the champagne bar had once stood and drank in the atmosphere. The waiters have all been replaced by performance artists it seems. As I stood gazing at a pile of bricks a man in a day glo vest and hard hat shouted "Put a fucking helmet on you ponce..." and stalked off. Breathtaking. If this is how exciting they had made the interior decor and service, heaven only knows what they had done with their menus!

After 25 minutes and no sign of a waiter, it suddenly dawned on me that they must have gone for a whole new philosophy of delivering the food to customers. Another performance artist walked past and I asked him about lunch. "Sandwich boxes you tosser" he yelled. And sure enough there they were, scattered around the performance area. Of all different colours and hues, some with hot drinks containers with them. I opened the first I came to - this was bringing out the hunter gatherer in the diner and no mistaking. Inside were some sandwiches sadly not made on a fresh ciabatta or baguette, but some sort of square cut white bread. The filling was a fish terrine of some sort that had been spread thinly - it had a highly piscine twang to it and it's sodium levels were no doubt ludicrously high. I spat the contents back into the box and moved to the next item on this mini menu. It was a small sachet of morceaux savoureux entitled "Monster Munch". Their refreshing sharp taste reminded one of nothing quite so much as pickled onions, would you believe! My palate needed refreshing and I was treated with a light fizzy drink called a Panda Pop which was bright blue and made me burp alarmingly. Intrigued by the gastric delights on offer I opened several other of these "boxes of delights" to discover the sweet meats inside. There were some truly remarkable finds. I was particularly struck by Cheese Strings and Waggon Wheels. But the performance was just starting. A few moments later a hooter sounded and suddenly I was surrounded by the performance artists in their hard hats and yellow vests. There was a moments silence and then they began their show.

"This blokes eaten my fucking lunch!" Shouted one.

"Your lucky" said another "he's spat most of my fish paste sarnies back in the box! Dirty bastard!"

"Where's my Waggon Wheel?" Yelled a third. The original actor then pointed at me.

"That well dressed posh talking dosser must have had the lot! GET HIM!" I was grabbed by several of them, some of whom pretended to beat me up. This was the weakest part of their performance as at least twelve of their "pulled" punches actually connected. More rehearsal needed there lads! I now offered to pay for the wonderful meal and performance, and pulled my wallet out. Apparently they only accept cash now, which was a surprise, but they were more than happy to accompany me to the nearest cash point, before one final pulled kick (again, another poor show lads, but at least you missed both my legs) and they left me to catch a cab home. A really exciting dining experience for me!

Filly had arrived at my flat during my visit and seemed surprised to see me. She kept trying to encourage me to go to the Groucho, but I was tired and a little bruised from the performance at the Savoy. Suddenly I heard the toilet flush. Who had done that? Suddenly, who appears but Bermondsey Dave from my Deptford kebab experience! Filly quickly explained that my toilet had broken and she had remembered Dave was a plumber and had called him. I mumbled something about him being a debt collector as I remembered, but she and he very quickly insisted he was definitely a plumber. I asked him if he had brought his plunger with him, but Filly assured me he had and after witnessing it in action she could confirm that he "sure knew how to use it" - which was a great relief.

So, another good day in the Giles London household! The Savoy certainly surprised me with their new look. If you have somewhere you'd like me to review then email me at gileslondongetsstuffed@yahoo.co.uk and maybe we can have lunch together. Bon appetit!