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Shawarma King

I got another shawarma last week. I’d just gone to the gym for the first time in a very long time, and I was starving. The largest size – ‘mega’ – cost just over £2, so I went for it. There was an ominously long preparation time, and then it emerged from the kitchen like the monstrous consequence of a science experiment gone wrong. The serving woman dropped it on the counter and gave me a disdainful smirk.
‘Hmm, said Kiril, ponderously, ‘it’s just a baby size’.
I did a double take. ‘Please tell me you’re joking? You think this is small?’
‘Ah no sorry. I meant it’s the size of a baby human.’

The mega shawarma baby didn’t just have the standard chicken, vegetables, and sauce inside. Whatever maniac was working in the kitchen had also put chips in it. Now I enjoy a good double-carb dish as much as the next guy, but in a wrap this size, it was verging on sadistic. It took me a couple of efforts, and I even considered taking it home for the next day’s packed lunch, but I’m very proud to say that I finally finished the mega shawarma. Probably the greatest feeling of achievement since I arrived in Krasnoyarsk.

In other news, I spotted this sign for a very hard-working cafe on my way home from choir on Monday. They must be mighty popular to justify those working hours.


'Cafe
Opening hours:
12 (crossed out) 1-2'

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