Alex L.
Yelp
A Blind Date with Tramshed:
Oh Tramshed, I'm just not that into you.
I'm your jilted lover, left me wanting more, disappointed and blue.
You swanky Hoxton minx ....it's no surprise.
Left me teary-eyed, hollow and with a lighter pocketbook 'stead of stars in my eyes.
Excited for my date with the glamourous Restaurant, Tramshed.
Heard so much good press, and that the venerable Hix is his dad.
Well-heeled and connected, who would have expected the worst?
His creative Black Sheep Uncle, Damien Hirst,
Hooked up Tram with sweet art : chicken atop a cow, submerged over eyes.
In a tank full of electric blue formaldehyde.
But back to the matter at hand, din.
Couldn't charm or disarm old Tram, the beginning of the end.
Service was slow, waitstaff like robots, gormless
No personality, no spark or individuality, helpful but not passionate, definite miss.
Well, Fair Yelper, Tramshed was not terrible, just not a great date.
One occasion that I do not wish to recreate.
And I certainly don't mean to be brash,
But Mr. Tramshed was a case of all style and no substance, class but mostly flash.
All brawn and no brains.
Young Tram came 'atcha girl all wrong, though no doubt he's makin' it rain.
Ambiance large, sterile, your style's not my thing, I said.
No flair, no excitement, was awake but behind my eyes flat lined, brain dead.
And seated at such a bad table through it all?
Environs left me comatose, could have stared a hole in the wall.
(Actually, I was most likely looking at the cartoon mural of Cow and Chicken).
Or dithering in the (cool) bathrooms, on my iPhone, snickering,
...About how to get out of this terrible date!
With my man Young Tram, but had to eat dinner before I could escape.
Indulged in steak, and the chicken.
Felt so indelicate, trying to pick at it.
Since the chicken arrived, not properly filleted for gastronomic ease.
But with the feet tied together, a little messy for a dining experience...jeez!
Aware it speaks to the greater concept, but I felt it was quite lazy.
And the sirloin appeared overcooked, a bit gray ...eeek!
Chips were fine, the desserts fared the worst.
American apple pie dry, chocolate cake too-beginning to end, this date was cursed.
Oh I was hoping to get lucky in rest-romance but Trammy you flunked.
No passing grade from me baby boy, afterwards I felt Kutcher-style punk'd.
For us it just was not in the cards.
Nope! The stars did not align by far.
It's fair to say we got along,
Although our chemistry was all wrong.
So Tramshed I wish you the best.
With many more suitable lady-diners, I am sure you will be blessed.
But if I may be cheeky? Since I'm on a high,
Doubt your future suitors can spit a rhyme quite as fly.