Actually, the only thing worse than film critics are food critics. Bah Christ. When your life's speciality is forcing another morsel of over-glazed lamb shank down your oily, globular, over-opinionated gullet; when, of all the things in the world men are called to do, of all the vocations of love and adventure, of all the trials of the emotions, and amongst all the voyages of spirit mankind can embark upon; when, given this whole universe of possible callings, the one you choose is to sit on your crapulent crack and lazily whine about someone else's cooking, that's when you know you are at the very epitome of the BFW shitheap.
