This is still my stuff.

From Moshi Moshi. Been a while since I had one of those bad boys. Which reminds me of when the friendly fruit-stall guy at Old Street tube station referred to bananas: "You want two of those little bad boys do you?". Yes. That's exactly what I want. Brutal.

Kulu Kulu on Brewer Street - owned by the same people who run Ten Ten Tei a few doors down. Munched through a huge pile of plates with a pal and suddenly thought "oh shit, 16 plates, bill pain" - but, including 2 beers, it came to £53 between us. In your face, recession.

Yeah, baby. These things are IT. The boz boz. The real deal. They, and the restaurant I ate them in, are so good that I'm actually not going to say where it is, for fear of causing a stampede and consequently not being able to get a table there next time I visit, which will be soon, oh yes. Shame about the spot of sauce, but it's uncharasterically imprecise, and when the rolls look and taste like this, I'm prepared to forgive the occasional slip, even to redress the universal imbalance of the blemish by leaving this sentence unembellished by a closing full stop