Something For The Weekend

scares in the city...

From those urban myths you first heard on the playground, to the real life horrors that happen every day on a global scale, it seems that everyone’s got a scary story they can share when the subject comes up...

As one of the world’s most historical continents, Europe is full of myths and legends. Ghosts, ghouls, goblins and tales of unsolved mysteries have been fireside fodder for centuries, but at this time of year, Europe seems just that little bit extra scary.  We’ve taken a look into some of the most haunted cities on the map, just in case you feel like a bit of ghostbusting.

The Scottish capital Edinburgh is perhaps one of the spookiest cities in Europe, with its cobbled paths, narrow alleys and antiquated buildings. Its infamous castle stands on the site of an ancient volcano, from which a series of secret tunnels head down the Royal Mile. Legend has it that when the tunnels were discovered, a man went down with a pipe and played it as he walked, so that people could hear where he was. Half way through, the piping stopped. The man had simply vanished! Apparently the piper’s ghost still haunts the tunnels and occasionally, you can hear his music in the castle.

The castle’s dungeons were scientifically “proven” to be haunted in 2001, when a team of researchers studied the reactions of people in various parts.  The visitors who had no clue of the dungeon’s reputation still reported feelings of uneasiness in exactly the spots that were allegedly haunted.

First appearing in historical records as early as the 8th Century, there’s a lot about Krakow you won’t read in the generic city guidebooks. Many of the ghost stories surrounding this pretty Polish city revolve around Wawel Hill and the castle and cathedral that still stand there.  This is the spot where Krakow’s Kings were both crowned and buried and is reputedly haunted by a group of dead kings who gather in one of the many underground chambers for a conference on Christmas Eve every year.  You might have heard of Krakow’s dragon, who’s statue stands by the Vistula river at the foot of its legendary lair.  Folklore states the dragon is actually the embellished memory of a pagan serpent goddess who lived in a cave within the hill.  It’s true that there are a host of mysterious pagan mounds throughout the city. The next time you’re climbing one, watch out for fire-breathing dragons, and the ghost of the King Sigismund’s jester, who’s hat bells can still be heard jiggling in the night.  Scared yet?

Beneath the streets of Paris, the bustling French capital, lie the remains of over seven million Parisians, their souls long departed but their bones left sleeping on display. We’re talking the catacombs, where people were stored after Paris’s cemeteries became too crowded. The eerie remains form the walls of an extensive walking passage and if you’ve got the nerve you can visit next time you’re in town. They call it the Empire of the Dead. Apparently it’s practically impossible to take a decent photograph down there, and those naughty people who’ve tried to touch the skulls have witnessed strange blue lights and sudden drops in temperature. Only for the brave, we tell you.

Another spot for your ghost-watching tour-de-France is the Place de l’Opera, the theatre infamous for inspiring the musical ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.  Built in 1875 the building is said to have its very own phantom woman, who committed suicide when her man scarpered in favour of a younger model. Workers, locals and tourists alike have reported seeing her ghost roaming the streets around the opera house.

The fairytale city of Prague is known to be one of the most haunted cities in Europe, so if you’ve just stocked up on ectoplasm remover, don’t be afraid to stop in.  Legend has it that the medical facility of Karolinium is haunted by a little  bony man, who in life, was wanted by a University professor for his diddy skeleton.  Thinking he would by far outlive the professor he sold his bones for 30 crowns, but ironically died that night in a drunken brawl.  His skeleton, naturally, went to the professor and apparently his two-foot tall ghost haunts the Karolinium, begging passers-by for change so he can buy his bones back.  Spine chilling stuff right?  Mind you though, if a trip to Prague is on the agenda, after a couple of shots of absinthe you’ll be spooking yourself stupid wherever you end up.

However you spend Halloween this year, just remember that sometimes, the things that go bump in the night aren’t always your flatmates falling up the stairs. - Becky Wicks

Go ghosthunting in Edinburgh, Krakow, Paris and Prague from just £98 with lastminute.com

Dirty Dancing - worth the wait?

Cheesier than a cauldron full of four-cheese fondue, if you loved the movie, (I mean really loved the movie), you’ll soak it up like a fresh, crusty baguette from Sainsburys.  It’s the film, basically, word for word, scene by scene, unravelling before your Hungry Eyes and spinning with it some of the hottest, leanest, fittest bodies you’ve ever seen. The skin-tight leotard modelled by the troubled Penny is enough to make a girl weep into her bucket of chicken and wonder where she’s going wrong. 

All the best bits are there and as the fans explode in fits of giggles at the scenes that probably once made them cry with pre-teen, hormonal lusting, it’s apparent that no matter how corny the dialogue, how cheesy the tunes, Dirty Dancing is a legend.

Set in Catskills holiday camp, Kellermans, we follow ordinary girl Baby as she becomes entwined with the entertainment staff, after carrying that infamous watermelon.  (We always knew fruit was good for us). Losing her virginity and finding a hunky, funky first love was never part of her plan (yeah, right), but she can hardly refuse swaggering, sexy Johnny, when he teaches her to dance in ways that would make her beloved daddy weep. There are sub-plots galore but let’s face it, all us ladies care about is seeing Johnny with his top off.

There’s a surprising lack of celebrity presence, considering how many fans would (and probably did) pay through the roof for tickets. But the show has sold on its name alone, with forums and chatrooms buzzing in anticipation months before the London show had even been cast.  It seemed that whoever was set to star, the audience would flock for the flashbacks alone; for those moments jumping on the sofa, clutching a hairbrush and singing along, wearing leggings, the first time they were cool.  They seem to have gone for an almost mirror image of Jennifer Grey’s Baby, played by a wholesome Georgina Rich and complete with appalling perm.  She even sounds like Baby, which is weird.

Former ballet dancer Josef Brown – he of “body to make grown women quiver” throws himself into the role of Johnny.  And although his questionable American accent oozes desperate, earnest pantomime cheese, no one gives a crap when he ditches the shirt and thrusts his groin at the audience in the glare of a perfectly placed spotlight. Come to mummy.

It's pretty hard not to laugh when the log lowers in from the left, right down in front of a projected lake. Well, how else were they supposed to do “that scene?”  The part where Baby and Jonny practice dancing away from camp is actually really cute and they get through the field and water scenes using similar projections, clever lighting and some smoke. You’ll have to see it to understand!  Also, look out for the pause before Baby pleads “Jonny” - a moment which sends the audience into hysterics, just because the same line in the movie is so utterly cringe-worthy.

No matter what the press hounds think when they get their grubby paws on tickets, sales for Dirty Dancing have already exceeded £6 million, making it the biggest box office advance for any show in West End history. The guy next to me said it all when he turned and announced – “There was a ticket tout outside, selling two for £50 each. You know you’ve got a hit on your hands when you see a tout at a preview.” It’s true. Dirty Dancing opens its doors to the public one month after word’s already spread about preview performances and still, it’s the hottest ticket in town. 

Yes it’s cheesy, yes, most blokes will hate it, (go with your girls, ladies), and yes, it’s taken a god-awful 80s movie and made an even more puke-inducing show out of it.  But for some strange reason, you’ll still have the time of your life.

By Becky Wicks

A Moon for the Misbegotten

Seeing Hollywood stars on the London stage has long been de  rigueur, but more often than not the casting reeks of theatres desperate for packed houses and an A-list actor desperate for credibility. So if you’re going to spend your hard-earned cash on further lining diamond-encrusted pockets, it might as well be the best in the business.

Kevin Spacey is of course not your average rent-a-name. Arguably, it was his performance in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh at the Old Vic that defined his talent as blazingly unique in a sea of blandness some time before American Beauty won him an Oscar. It’s little surprise then that Spacey returns to O’Neill with A Moon for the Misbegotten, at a time when the very critics who celebrated his West End residency a decade ago are questioning his creative stewardship of this beautiful venue.

O’Neill’s play is also timely in its Arthur Miller-esque examination of the American Dream, playing with matters of illusion and reality with devastating power. Set in a ramshackle Connecticut farm in the 1920s, Phil Hogan (a craggy Colm Meaney) is an Irish immigrant tenant farmer, struggling to hold on to his family and his land. Abandoned by his three sons, his daughter Josie (Eve Best) keeps him afloat while he concocts paranoid plots in fear of Kevin Spacey’s city slicker landlord Tyrone selling his land.

With a fantastically simple and iconic set of striking blue day and atmospheric night, the story unveils a tragically unrequited love between Josie, a virgin who clouds her profound insecurity in lewd talk of imagined fumblings, and the ex Broadway ham Tyrone, a charmer fatally flawed by his reaction to his mother’s death, drowning himself in bourbon to take away his personal shame. Whilst Spacey’s trademark splenetic breakdown in the second half is electrifying, Eve Best steals the great man’s thunder with a performance of fragile power, struggling to hold it together for Tyrone whilst in utter anguish herself. Throughout, her physical ungainliness perfectly pitches the inner doubt of a beautiful woman brought up in the company of whiskey-soaked masculinity.

Whilst dark, A Moon for the Misbegotten is far from unremitting. The script crackles with black humour and unveils itself as a love story between two hopeless souls, destined to pretend to be something they’re not until they met each other. Finally, it seems that Spacey’s found a play that transcends his own celebrity. And it just happens to be the man who helped make it.

Dan Pilkington

Buy tickets for A Moon for the Misbegotten

we know you've got Hungry Eyes...

As we wait in eager anticipation for the West End production of the hit movie, we can but twirl our way through the long, hard weeks, dreaming of watermelons and breathing things like "JONNY" in husky tones.  It's difficult, we know.  But fear not, we haven't got too long to wait now.  The time of our lives is almost upon us, (yay!)

But, will it be as good as the movie?  What will Kellermans look like on stage?  Will Baby's nose be that wonky?  Will her sister still look like a horse?  How will they do the water scene - you know - the one where hot-bodied Jonny lifted her up in the lake and all our pre-teen, angst ridden hearts broke just a little in the knowledge that no matter how many times we practiced "the lift", we would never progress to the nearby lake, and even if we did, we'd get our tutu wrapped round a shopping trolley and end up in Casualty.  Oh and of course, we also knew that before we could get anywhere near the lake-lifting-stage, we'd have to partner up with  pimpled-faced Paul from Year 8 who had no muscles and a bad case of halitosis. Hardly a Swayzee, really.  Sometimes it's better to dream.

While we're dreaming of opening night, (a week tomorrow!) on October 24th, we can while away the hours with Richard Dempsey's Dirty Dancing Diary Richard plays Neil Kellerman so he's in a prime position to give us the goss on all the backstage action. If it's anything like the behind-the-scenes naughtiness of Kellerman's summer camp, we're in for a few surprises.

And if you haven't got your tickets yet, (gasp - what happened?), you'd better book 'em up quick. Lastminute.com have still got some
available from February. 

Well,... good things come to those who wait. Just look, Baby got Jonny, didn't she...

if you've got it, flaunt it. If you haven't, get off!

It's gonna be a tough one this year - they're already battling it out like fire-breathing dragons and on Saturday we lost all nineteen members of ugly-but-tuneful The Unconventionals.  OK, nineteen's an exaggerration but still, if they thought they could win by dragging up every aunt, uncle, neice, nephew and long cousin and putting a song together, they had another thing coming.

We're now left with an odd bunch indeed, and in my opinion, none of them match the talents of Will Young, that strange dustbin man from last year, or American Idol winners Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood or Fantasia. America's a big country though. We have slimmer pickings. Still, in Simon's Group (16-24s) there is some hope...

Not in Ashley however, who sings like someone's put a peg on his nose and a stick up his bum.  Plus, he has a pretty miserable attitude, so we vote him off next. Raymond, although the youngest of the bunch murdered Jackson's Ben. Just coz he's a kid doesn't mean he should sing cheesy kid songs,... (tut). He won't last long unless they give him a meatier number to chew on, Sinatra for example,... he obviously wants to be the next "Probably working in McDonalds coz no one bought his album" Gareth Gates. Errr, why?

Nikita's pretty cool, although could we please lose the sob stories? OK so she's been through a hard time but so has half of Britain. Pity doesn't sell records.  Talent does - something which we reckon Leona has oodles of.  She's gorgeous, sweet and sings like an angel. Plus she's the bookie's favourite to win and I voted for her because I'd had two glasses of wine by then. Yay Leona!

In Sharon's group, (over 25s) it's sad to say but there's only one winner for us, and that's Ben, the rocker with the stupid hair. Lose the hair and unleash that personality, that's what we say. Ben's got a cute smile and Sting/Bon Jovi sound that takes us back to bed-jumping and singing into a hairbrush, the first time leggings were in fashion. Well, we suppose Kerry's an interesting case. Having been in a wheelchair for years, singing has always been her dream, and she plans to find different ways of singing, ie, getting carried by hot men, sprawling in a piano, etc etc. It's nice to have her in the competition, and sure, we're rooting for her, but she doesn't really have a memorable voice and rather looks like a teacher. As for Robert, he's nothing we haven't seen before, in fact, I can't even remember too much about him, and while Dionne is cool, last year's Brenda had the same sort of style and was miles better. So it's Ben all the way if Sharon's gonna win. Yay Ben!

Loui's group, (the groups), are quite frankly, all excruitiangly boring this year. Having lost The Unconventionals we're left with three uninspiring boy bands and let's face it, does Britain really need another boy band? Did we even need another one after Take That, while we're on the subject? Hmmm. Anyway, the gay guy, Anthony, in Eton Road, who Simon called "odd", is the only one worth watching as far as we're concerned. He's cute, quirky and can actually sing, plus he's only 17, (aaaw). The others are so dull they make him stand out even more so they'll probably do better than the other groups because of him, but ONLY because of him. Then of course we've got 4Sure, who are just as dull as their pathetic name. We're 4Sure they'll be out before week 4. There's really not much we can say about pant-wetting, mummy-boy whingers The MacDonald Brothers either.  They were so  boring on Saturday I went to the kitchen to pour more wine and look at the cupboard for five minutes. Yawn.  Sorry Louis, but you're working with some duds this year. Still, if there has to be a fave it's Eton Road. Yay Eton Road!

If you're still hung up on last year's contestants, X FACTOR LIVE TOUR tickets are on sale now at lastminute.com.
Get yours today from just £25  

how hammy is Spamalot?

"When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle..." Good advice indeed. But when it comes to processed goods, is this Monty Python extravaganza looking tasty, or should Spamalot be left on the shelf?

What’s it like?
Just like that suspicious canned meat that tortured many a childhood lunchbox, Spamalot is nothing you can really describe until you’ve tried a slice. But to be fair, from the name, you know we’re not talking Shakespeare. In fact, if it’s at all possible, this stage show is even more ridiculous than the films and TV shows, which got the world spouting such nonsensical utterings as “ni” and banging on about shrubberies. Terry Gilliam's world-renowned Python animation style reigns supreme across the stage, (including the giant foot), and any fan won’t fail to be impressed with the surreal scenery.  Oh, and Eric Idle’s score will have you in stitches, so don’t sip your sneaky bev unless you’ve prepped yourself not to spit it all over the row in front!

What’s it about?
Billed as a loving rip off of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Spamalot basically revolves around the rather long-winded quest for the afore-mentioned article, with a whole host of stupidity along the way.  All the best Python gags are in there, including “The Bright Side of Life”, the Bringing out the Dead bit, (complete with a new song), the knights who say Ni and the infamous Round Table - now a glitzy casino affair complete with cabaret. 

Who’s in it?
The Lady of the Lake, who only gets a tiny mention in the film, plays a leading role here and adding impeccable comic timing and stitch-inducing musical warbling to the part is actress Hannah Waddingham.  She plays the love interest of King Arthur, brought to life by the loveable Tim Curry, who’s probably best known for his role as Dr. Frank N. Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). Tom Goodman-Hill also stars as the devilishly handsome Sir Lancelot and Robin Hands gives good as the nice but dim Sir Robin.  It’s a cracking cast, actually. And although it will undoubtedly be viewed as less glam once Curry departs, the laugh-a-minute madness will more than make up for it.

What should I look for?
Diehard fans won’t miss the nod to the Lumberjack Song, reworked as a number with a different tune entitled “We are not dead yet”. About 70% of the two hour show relies on the best bits of the film, actually, but not surprisingly no one seems to care. This is definitely for the person who wouldn’t be seen dead singing along to a musical soundtrack. And why bother with the tunes anyway, when it’s easier to recite the dialogue you spent most of the 70s learning?

So what’s the verdict?
This is one for the people who’ve come to London to be entertained but can’t be bothered with a Llyod Webber slush-fest.  It’s hard to find fault with a Monty Python escapade because if anyone argues that ”it doesn’t have a plot”, well, it’s not supposed to, really.  “It doesn’t make sense!”  Well, of course it doesn’t.  “The sets are all wonky!”  Durr, they’re supposed to be.  Just go along in a good mood and don’t rain on anyone’s parade.  Monty Python has the kind of cult following that can’t be argued with; not on the telly, not in the cinema, and definitely not on the stage.  Even if you do object to a hundred strangers shouting “Ni” at each other during the interval. - Becky Wicks

To book your Spamalot tickets click here

life in a Landmark of luxury...

I've not had much luck with hotels lately.  After the 'African incident' when we didn't even have a telly in the room - (I KNOW... what kind of hotel doesn't have a telly??), I found that my view of five star luxury had somewhat been tarnished. Then came the hotel in Barcelona.  Having been promised a balcony with stunning views we were slightly miffed to find a large window, which, if we cocked our head to the right and stood on a chair, presented us with a partially obscured view of a Gothic building.

Still, perhaps I was looking too far away from home.  Let's be honest, when you're on holiday it's not absolutely essential to be pandered over at every turn. Some hotels are meant for nothing more than sleeping,... or if you're lucky enough to have another half... perhaps a little of something else.  But, really, if you want to spend a little while in the lap of luxury, you should perhaps look no further than your very own city.

We've just discovered the 5* Landmark in London.  And oh my, what a difference a country makes. Not only do the rooms have televisions, they've all got cable/satellite and pay-to-view movies too.  Wow. Er... not that you should spend too much time on those however. There's the hotel to explore.  Right oppposite Marylebone Station, this is one of London's most luxurious hotels and oozes that classic, British elegance that only Lady Di could emit as effortlessly.  If it's delux grandeur  you're after, and a little indulgent pampering, the Landmark invites you in, eases you into your complimentary slippers and serves you the finest champagne in your room before asking you out to dinner.  Bliss.

Oh, you might want to head to the Mirror Bar first, for a pre-dinner aperitif. Opened in late 2005, this sumptuous stop is created in a style reminiscent of the hotel’s Victorian heritage, and finished in a selection of decorative mirrors in which you can inspect your make-up, daaahling. From Cognac to Champagne, sexy staff and cigars, heading here before the restaurant sure beats watching Emmerdale while your dinner nukes in the microwave. 

What's to eat, we hear you cry. Well, from traditional afternoon tea, to themed banquets for over 300 people, the Winter Garden Restaurant is staffed by people who know how to deliver.  If you're here anyway, you should probably spoil yourself with something A la Carte. From Pan Fried Froi Gras, to Beignets of Cornish Crab, to Fillet of Buccleuch Beef, there's always a ton of yummy posh stuff you can't quite pronounce. Mmmmm. That's when you know it's good.

After a post-dinner drink in The Cellars it might be time for bed. No?  Well there's always Oxford Circus down the street if you've got your dancing shoes strapped on tight.

We reckon The Landmark is probably one of London's most fabulous ways to play posh for a weekend. Who needs shoddy Barcelona balcony efforts and telly-less bedrooms when you can have such luxurious fun on your very doorstep? - Becky Wicks

To be in with your chance to win a weekend in The Landmark, tell us which train station is right opposite the hotel. Enter the competition here

Come to the Cabaret...

A port-hole window opens half way up the glittering safety-curtain and the smiling bleach-white face of the master of ceremonies peers out at the crowd – he sings in a cracked, world-worn voice “Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome...”. This is the surreal opening number in a musical that really defies many expectations. You can often get a sense, in musical theatre, that the plot is secondary to the songs - just a line to peg them on. Of course, that was never going to be the case with Cabaret and anyone who has seen the film will be aware of both the human and political passion in the story.

What’s it about?
The story is set in 1930s Berlin where English wannabe-starlet Sally Bowles (Anna Maxwell-Martin) sings night after night at that infamous den of iniquity the Kit Kat Club. Clifford Bradshaw (Michael Hayden), the (almost) wholesome American abroad, stumbles into the scene and becomes embroiled in the dark, seedy society where sex, drugs and money are king. Add to this seething underbelly the growing presence of the clone-like Nazis and we see the gleeful atmosphere of hedonistic pleasure begin to fall apart and give way to something altogether more sinister.

What’s it like?
Rufus Norris’s West-End staging is incredibly physically expressive. The choreography (Javier De Frutos) is amazing, capturing the sexual depravity of the scene in a crass and brutal physical reality, which in its complete lack of boundaries becomes almost asexual. The chorus dancers seem at times like the grubby bottom-dwellers they portray and at other times, strangely ethereal - like tortured souls writhing in hell. All of which makes the performance sound far more academic than it is. This is a truly enjoyable play not just for it’s cleverness and delicate ambiguity but also because the characters are truly believable and engaging.
A perfect example is the relationship between the aging couple, Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz, which is genuinely touching and stands in stark contrast to the giddy promiscuity around.Nothing is too simple in this play - there's no bludgeoning the audience with moral messages and no attempt to create justice by the end. Which is why it's so tragic.

Who’s in it?
If you think you recognise Sally Bowles, it’s because Anna Maxwell-Martin recently won a BAFTA for her lead role in Bleak House (BBC series). If you think you recognise the ghoulish Emcee, you might put a policeman’s hat on that sloppily painted face and realise that it’s James Dreyfus, who’s most famous for his role as Constable Kevin Goody in the Thin Blue Line. Perhaps not the biggest stars ever to hit Theatreland, but, taking on such strongly characterised roles, it’s probably just as well. I can’t imagine the usual B-list pop-stars-cum-newfound-actors surviving in such a passionate and often austere piece of theatre.

Who’d enjoy it?
You’ll enjoy Cabaret whether you’ve seen the film or not. In fact, you may even enjoy it more if the tragic storyline is entirely new to you. If you’re looking for a light-hearted piece of family entertainment you certainly won’t find it here. However, if you like beefy, thought-provoking, emotionally-charged, dryly humorous but ultimately tragic entertainment then Cabaret is the one for you.

What should I look for?
If the show comes with any warnings it’s that there is complete (yes, full-frontal male and female) nudity at times. Which the prude in me tried to class as gratuitous but couldn’t (when  you see the ending you’ll understand why). Also it’s very low on the average musical cheese-factor – there are a limited number of “belters” and far fewer jazz hands. 

Verdict
I loved it. It’s the sort of performance you’ll watch and then want to stay up all night talking about.

Sara Sha'ath

ooo la la - Chez Gerard Dover Street

If you fancy a little french cuisine you could do a lot worse than Chez Gerard, Dover Street. In fact, it is so good that we have chosen it as October's restaurant of the month.

It’s all about the ambience – This is just as you would imagine a French restaurant should be…. cosy and intimate but still a little bit chic. And just to get your mouth-watering a little you can watch the sumptuous steaks being cooked on the grill beside the bar.

Get your map out – located in the back streets of delightful Mayfair Chez Gerard is a short stroll from The Ritz, Green Park and the Queen’s residence not to mention being only a hop, skip and a jump from Piccadilly Circus too.

Nosh and beverages – After we had selected a bottle of their finest Sancerre from the plentiful French wine list (I would thoroughly recommend it) we then settled to the delights of the main menu. If you fancy a steak then you are in the right place but there is plenty more to this menu than just beef.

I chose the thick, juicy asparagus for starters which was delightful whilst my two friends tucked into the king prawns with a lemon and parsley sauce. Whilst the starters were an easy choice when it came to choosing the main course there were many more dilemmas. Should I go for the cod, or the veal or the lamb or the fish panache, decisions decisions. Eventually I plumped for the medallions of beef with grilled flat mushrooms, which was cooked to perfection and melted in the mouth, just divine. My friends both chose the grilled veal escalope that was also lovely.

Then we come to the piece de resistance; there was no messing around when it came to pudding. Tarte au citron, in my opinion, has to be the best pudding in the world and Chez Gerard’s tarte did not disappoint. My friend chose the crepe suzette that was delicious too. If you can say one thing about the French, they know how to do dessert.

And tonight your waiter is – the staff were all very attentive and catered to our every whim.

Wallet welfare – If you become tempted by the chateau-briand then your wallet might take a little bit of a battering but overall the price is very reasonable considering the quality of the food. If you go for the set menu then your wallet will be very happy indeed, in fact it will almost feel like you are robbing the restaurant to be receiving such delicious food at such a tiny tiny price.

Overall – ooh la la. This finest French fare is not to be missed. Give your stomach a treat and book now.

Chez Gerard, Dover Street - three courses and wine £15.95

Review by Claire Taylor

a taste of Tuttons...

It’s always a laugh isn’t it, sitting in the middle of a top London tourist attraction and watching the somewhat confused, awe-struck masses wander past.  Right on the piazza, opposite the flower market and overlooking the Royal Opera House, brasserie style restaurant and bar,Tuttons is the place to see and be seen in Covent Garden.

For almost 30 years, the cosmopolitan cuisine in this people-watching paradise has been drawing the crowds from London’s theatre-loving West End. I went along having read several reviews and was fully expecting the hustling, bustling busyness that greeted us when we walked inside. It’s not exactly the spot for a quiet meal, but there’s a sort of romance to be found in chattering to your dining companion above the roar of an enthusiastic crowd. This is London.  It’s exciting, it’s welcoming, it’s buzzing, just like our waiter, Michael. 

Michael greeted us with a smile and a menu and pointed out the special’s board behind us from our perfect seat in the window.  During the summer, the tables at Tuttons spill out onto the pavement, bringing diners even closer to the vibrant piazza.  You won’t want to come too early for dinner – Covent Garden is truly at its finest when locals, tourists and entertainments are rushing their way to the surrounding venues and between 6 and 10.30 is the perfect time to catch some unsuspecting fool in a pair of high heels trip up on the paving slabs. Evil yes, but hilarious all the same.   

From the vast and enticing Modern European menu I chose the grilled, fresh tuna with nicoise salad a tarragon vinaigerette.  Warm buttered beans hit my tongue, rendered even fresher by the crispy salad and soft tuna.  My friend chose the seabass with summer greens, lemon and coriander.  Both were exceptional and served with a smile, friendly banter and a delicious chardonnay on ice.  I was full by dessert – we had tons of bread – but how could I resist the calorific naughtiness of the sticky toffee pudding?  As my thighs expanded and I slyly undid the top button on my jeans I thought what the hell, and took another mouthful.

Tuttons is great for a date, take the guy or gal you’re looking to impress and soak up London charm at its best.  Or if you’re off to a show nearby, give it a whirl for a night of total city style.

Tuttons Brasserie, London - two course from á la carte menu with a chilled glass of Prosecco, £15 per person - BOOK NOW