So, the Commonwealth Games has left Birmingham, closing up with a ceremony whose soundtrack was straight out of an aunt’s birthday party and with a slightly uncomfortable segment featuring native Australians dancing for the very people who tried to eradicate them from the face of the planet. Black Sabbath were there to close the closer, with Ozzy Osbourne shooting up from the stage, wearing a GPS on his wrist to tell him where in the world he was and seemingly fixed to a stanchion so that he was bolted upright like early on-set rigour mortis. I’m still not ruling out that it was Sharon Corr in eyeliner singing both of the Black Sabbath back catalogue. It was the most magical of eleven days for the city, obvious from the week before when it suddenly filled up with all parts of the globe, joyous and full of anticipation. It felt great to be a part of it. It was special. We knew it was. Those visiting knew it too. You couldn’t move in Victoria Square, the festival centrepoint bathed in sunlight and whose goers were punch drunk on rose from Loki and IPA from Pure Craft. We’d sit on the deckchairs and watch the sporting events well into the night, completely forgetting in that second that these games were being played all over our city. The world’s eyes were on Birmingham and those tired tropes were banished once they saw just how beautiful we are.

It meant that eating out without a reservation was a logistical nightmare. I know, I tried. On one of those days I tried Fat Hippo, but no, they were reservation only. That’s fine and I’m pleased they were busy given that the only good reviews so far have come from those who haven’t paid. Having eaten there since, I can only apologise to anyone who had a reservation over that period. Birmingham really is far better than this. It might be the worst burger I’ve ever eaten in the city.

Let’s start from scratch. Trash browns to start, easily the best thing we tried and even better when we send them back to get the cheese sauce they didn’t have on first time around. Tater tots, fried onions, and cheese sauce when they are reminded; it’s pissed food, which is ideal given that pissed is the only way you are enjoying the rest of the menu. Two sauces, yours for a combined waste of one-pound-fifty. A ‘hellacious hippo hot sauce’, which hurts to type, is nothing more than Dorritos hot salsa spiked with chilli powder. It is vile, but not as bad as the smoked chilli jello, which sounds like something conceived by a toddler for his nursery cooking contest. It arrives fridge cold and solid, eventually loosening to the texture of hair gel. The flavour is mostly that of grease with a back note of misery. I tell them it’s possibly the worst tasting thing in Birmingham and they say that it’s not performing as well as it does in other branches in other cities. It is more of an endorsement for how great Brummies are than any games.

We do burgers. One chicken, another beef. They are shit. Like really shit. I can’t be arsed to flounce up any prose on just how shit they are, so I’ll provide the very bullet points I gave directly to them after trying to eat, along with the pictures.

On the beef burger (Tropic Thunder or some bollocks);

– The patties collapsed into pieces upon picking up the bun

– The patties were under seasoned to the point they tasted of nothing

– The bottom of the bun disintegrated into nothing because the slaw was soaking wet

– The candied pineapple wasn’t candied. It was a pineapple ring warmed up in a pan

On the chicken burger (The Great White Buffalo, incidentally the same nickname I have for my penis)

– The chicken was dry; a miracle given that the batter was barely cooked. I can only imagine.

– The American cheese had been left out and had gone harder around the edges than my Great White Buffalo.

– See above for bun and seasoning issues.

They have chips. Barely cooked and one upgraded to Caesar fries with the aid of some jizz and a bacon crumb. Everything hard work. No care applied. Just fucking awful.

I told them this directly, face-to-face. They asked why we hadn’t eaten the food and I told them. No point in pretending otherwise, this is Birmingham’s most dire opening in years. In the long list of shit restaurants to be on this very site, this is the worst and if you’re familiar with the spot you’ll know that this is some achievement. They say something about not being up to the standard of what they expect and knock 20% from the bill, thus making this sorry excuse of a dinner £37 for two with two glasses of wine. I was expecting mediocre, to walk away muttering something about not being The Meat Shack or OPM, but it’s far worse than that. Order the trash browns if you really must. Make sure they have all of the listed ingredients on them. Eat quickly and then get out. Great burgers can be found half a mile away in either direction.

3/10