I was invited to dine at this restuarant on the back of a Guardian review. I arrived on November 13th 2009 as one of a party of ten. I shuffled into this cramped and humid dining room. The first thing that impressed me was the number of guests waiting to be seated. They lined the length of the room and invaded the personal space of the seated customers. The second thing I noticed was the decor. Now, some will say the place has charm. Some will say it is basic, and others will attest to what they call authenticity. If you ignore those subjective emotional responses, what you end up with is a dirty establishment. The floor, the walls, and the toilets are all lacking in cleanliness. Grubby. Not a good start! I was guided up to the first floor, which meant walking on the filthiest carpet I have ever seen, up to the ‘private’ eating areas. There are two of them and, you guessed it – they too are well below the basic standards one expects from any restaurant. We were crammed into a small room that looked like it doubled-up as the staff accommodation after closing time. I was gob-smacked that the owners had the audacity to present this area as fit for purpose. We ordered a number of dishes from the extensive menu. Trotters, Pork intestines, Crab, Bass and Prawn and the like, with a rake of boiled rice and beer. The food is very samey and appears to have two flavours. Oil with chilli and Oil without chilli. Yes, I accept it is cheap, but so is chips. Yes, it is beautifully presented but so is Cheryl Cole. Yes it is generously portioned. And your point is? The real problem with this place is the clientele. For tolerating, supporting, and almost demanding to be degraded on a culinary level. This gaff could not, would not survive outside of London.