Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Okay, so I promised an epic tale of epic sandwich proportions. Let me set the scene.

It’s Tuesday, at work. Since Ian has the day off, I’m forced to entertain myself at lunchtime. Usually, this means I go off for a wander around Covent Garden to see if I can discover any closely-guarded secrets, but usually I end up finding nothing more than clothes shops I’d never go into and overpriced Delis. On this occasion, I decided that I’d act on a discovery Nikki and I made some weeks before, and head out to a certain sandwich shop. It seemed like it might be slightly too far out to be accessible. I deliberated over whether I could make it there and back, over what would be the best way to get there. I read reviews to give myself further clues on where to find it, and I compared map upon map to decide which route would be the speediest.

Having done my research, I printed off a map and headed out the door, stopping only at a cash machine to ensure I could afford the object of my hunger. I timed myself to the station platform at Leicester square. Including the time spent behind a paranoid guy at the cash machine who spent more time looking around to check no-one was watching him type in his PIN and trying to hide his fingers as he typed than the entire rest of the process, it had taken a little over 6 minutes. By the time the next train arrived, it had been 8. I got on it.

Tube trains at lunchtimes are often mercifully empty, especially if you’re going against the flow. You forget, travelling only at peak hours, but during the down periods the tube genuinely is a comfortable and fast way to travel, the only real problem with it is the vast amount of people trying to cram themselves onto it. Buy yourself a bike, you lazy bastards.

As I exited Green Park station, I was pleased with my progress. The tube journey was one of the larger variables and the one I had least control over, so I was glad to see it went well. Still less than 15 minutes into my hour and I was making good time. Now in unfamiliar territory, my navigation skills were near-useless. This is where the map took over. I walked up Piccadilly, crossing the road and was about to turn right onto what I assumed to be the street I wanted, when it became immediately clear from the geographical features that it couldn’t be. It wasn’t long enough, for a start. This road wasn’t marked on the map. It lacked any identifying signage, but it couldn’t be correct. I continued up Piccadilly, and arrived at a much larger road. As before, it lacked any indication of what road it was, but I was now certain. If all had gone well, I was now on St. James’ Street. It was downhill from there. Literally, I mean, since it’s actually a hill. I walked down, checking the names of various hotels and shops on my way, hoping for some indication of what road I was on. I passed St James’ Hotel. St. James’ News. St. James’ Tobacco, Est. 1917. This seemed like the place alright.

At this point, I double-checked the map. I needed to find King Street. I looked up at the road sign I was standing beneath. The strange glyphs on the map and sign both looked the same, and they looked like this: King Street. Of course, every king needs a crown, and in this case my ultimate destination was to be found in the slightly risque sounding “Crown’s Passage.” A few steps down the road and I found a large archway with people streaming in and out. This was the fabled entrance to Crown’s Passage. Inside was a thin marketplace street of the kind you only expect to find in third-rate fantasy films and dystopian futures. On either side there were shops and pubs and cafe-eateries of all kinds. The view that greeted me was exactly as I expected from the photos I’d seen during my research. I walked down the road, past “Get the Foccaccia” and finally, slightly over 20 minutes after I left work, I at my destination. Fuzzy’s Grub, it’s unfortunately called (not, as Nikki would later call it, Fuzzy Grubs, which makes it sound like they sell caterpillars.) But why was this place so important? What sandwich could be worth this quest? Those of you that know may will not be surprised.

Fuzzy’s will, for £5, give you an entire Roast Dinner in a sandwich. Meat, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, gravy and other sauces, and, if you’re into that, vegetables. It’s literally nothing less than a buffet carvery merged with a sandwich shop. You can get the food to eat in, to take away, and optionally, between two of the thickest, softest, tastiest slices of farmhouse loaf I’ve ever had. The potatoes were crushed flat, because I know you’re wondering about them. The gravy was prevented from tainting the bread too completely by the sheer amount of food in there. The available meat was Pork, Chicken, Turkey and Beef, and there may have been lamb too. When I received my food, I wrapped it up in an extra bag to insulate the heat and quickly made the return journey back to the office. For a round trip of about 40 minutes and a total cost of £4.95, I found myself consuming the thickest, tastiest sandwich of my entire life. This was literally the way they were designed - an entire meal inside a sandwich. I went for the Turkey option, and I was utterly stuffed by the end of it.

They do Roast Dinners to take away too, where you’re given them in a foil container, but the sandwich worked so well I’m not sure I’d bother! I highly recommend that anyone who’s able to should make it their business to attend one of these fine eating establishments, as located throughout London: http://www.fuzzysgrub.com/wheretofind.html

As if it needed to be said, I’m planning to return in the future, and I think I might give the beef a shot…