Wow….I really wish I had a kebab right now. It is no wonder that they do not allow kebabs in some places in the UK. As for the two shops…I would probably go for the underdog, “Next to Me.” In fact, to solve the problem of choosing, I would probably just take you along and make you buy me a kebab from each place to do a blind taste test.

As for the “Worst Kebabs Ever,” I would be happy to design your shop. Think of the possibilities for birthdays…corporate events…reunions…you’d bring the world together…one god awful kebab at a time. Cheers…I miss u!

The beauty of “probably the best kebabs in the world” relates to the great advertising campaign of the late 80’s… Carlsberg, the best beer in the world, probably. Thus subtly alluding to the fact these kebabs are actually a 4th of July multiple oragasm of chilli sauce and “sal-ad” in your mouth, with meaty chunks of goodness worthy of flying across the atlantic for…

Obviously your American status resulted in the subtle undertones of irony slipping above your head like a well oiled underwear model at the controls of a low flying aircraft, but no one can blame you for your lack of knowledge in historic lager advertising media…

For that reason alone, you are forgiven…

As for akebabs as an entirely separate entity from food as we know it…well, that isn’t necessarily that difficult to appreciate!!

1) Across The Street Kebabs (hereafter ATSK) are clearly lying. Like yourself, I refuse to believe that they serve the actual honest-to-God best kebabs on the face of the Earth. If they did, the queue would be longer for a start. Next To Me Kebabs (hereafter NTMK), on the other hand, might not be lying. Their claim isn’t so far outside the realms of possibility that I discount it out of hand, even though I had previously believed the best kebabs in the UK to be made in a small kebab shop just outside Warwick. If you’re going to lie, at least make the lie something which looks like it could possibly be true.

2) The sentence structure at NTMK appeals to me. It is my firmly held belief that the person who makes the best kebabs in the country (or ON THE PLANET) will not be a native speaker of English, and will be more obsessed with creating the perfect kebab than proofreading their advertising.

3) NTMK knows their market. ATSK does not. This is clear from the fact that NTMK are smart enough to go with a beer-related slogan (clearly a variation on the Carling ‘probably the best lager in the world’ line) and a picture that brings to mind beer rather than greasy dead animal with lank salad and a chilli sauce that doesn’t conform to a single health and safety standard. Most people don’t want the best kebab on the planet. They want a kebab that’s good enough to class as food at their current level of inebriation, and cheap enough to buy with the change they have left over after reaching that level.

4) NTMK has self-deprecating advertising opposite a bright and flashy shop offering the best kebabs on the planet. You’d think this would be a recipe for commercial suicide. Heck, you might even blog about it. And yet they’re still in business – what do their repeat customers know that you don’t?

5) NTMK is closer, and there are few or no visible rats (customers notwithstanding) in the shop.

As for the signage, I feel it’s time for kebab shops to strike back. If bookshops refuse to allow kebabs into their establishment, these fine restauranteurs should retaliate in kind.

NO NEWSPAPERS.
NO BOOKS.

If they’re upset at the kebabs-as-non-food jabs, they could always add:

NO DA VINCI CODE.

Incidentally, kebabs and signs reminds me of a story that was often told when I was at university in Durham. How much is truth and how much exaggeration I don’t know, but it bears re-telling.

In Durham (and this much I know to be true) there is a kebab shop that goes by the name of Beni’s. They have a large sign with the shop’s name above the front window.

One night, after the shop had closed, someone broke off the lower loop of the B and removed the apostrophe, leaving a slightly more scatological message. The local newspaper seized on this, and printed a scathing article about the effects of student vandalism on the town.

Unsurprisingly, the student union took offence at this and demanded to know why the paper had assumed it was a student who had defaced the sign rather than a local. That, replied the journalist responsible for the article, was simple – they knew it was a student because a local wouldn’t have removed the apostrophe.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Only start to worry when the entrance sign reads “no shoes”

Kebabs, you know, can be made to taste good or bad by mental manipulation. If you tell someone the kebab they’re eating is bad they’re agree with you, just as if you tell them how good they are. Hence, your plan wouldn’t really require much training in the art of destroying kebabery. Merely by telling people they’re bad would be enough to make them taste it as bad.

Je suis tres fatigue, bon nuit!