The European about town, Chapter Four: Japes.

Me: You know what we haven’t done for a while?  A blog post where I interview you about a place you’ve visited.

Her: Sighs.

Me: So, where did you go tonight?

Her: Poopoo head.

Me: The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can go back to your phone.  Please try answering sensibly.  Where did you go?

Her: For pizza.

Me: What was it called? 

Her: Japes.

Me: Where was it?

Her: Soho.

Me: What was it like inside?

Her: (Thinks) regular?

Me: What does that mean?

Her: Nothing.

Me: Rustic?  Modern?

Her: I didn’t pay attention.  It was like a canteen, with wooden tables.

Me: What was the service like?

Her: Good.

Me: Want to go with more than a one-word answer?

Her: Pleasant.

Me: What did you eat?

Her: Deep-fried pizza.

Me: Was this the only thing on the menu?

Her: They have other types of pizza and starters.

Me: Do you have any examples?

Her: (Visibly getting irritated) I don’t remember.

Me: Did you have anything else apart from pizza?

Her: Wine.

Me: Not beers?

Her: No.

Me: What wine?  And what was it like?

Her: It was a Pinot Grigio.  Like a cheap pinot they make you pay £eight a glass for.

Me: You didn’t enjoy it?

Her: It was fine.

Me: What were the pizzas like?

Her: It was fine, I guess.  It was really heavy, really cheesy.  I tried the hot one. It was called a ‘Picante’.

Me: What did [friend] have?

Her: The ‘Chicago’.

Me: And what was on that?

Her: Um, a regular pizza with stuff on it.  Shows me a video on her phone of a singing bird.  Look at this, it’s so amazing.  It steals my heart.

Me: (Ignoring the bird) how much was it?

Her: I don’t know, I didn’t pay.

Me: Would you go back?

Her: No.

Me: Why not?

Her: It’s not my kind of pizza.

Me: Do you have anything else to add?

Her: I am still trying to digest the pizza.

Me: Anything else? 

Her: No. Scrolls through Instagram. I would love to have a ferret.

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