We have all been there. It's a Saturday night and its 2 am your blind drunk and for some reason a burger from that van over there seems like a good idea! "Great" you exclaim, "I'll have a cheese burger please" and you watch on in amusement as the (I use the term loosely) "Chef" places a pre-cooked burger back on the griddle and heats it to that lukewarm stage that only burger vans have the ability to do.
The Stale Bun is opened, ketchup and Mayonnaise is lashed on, onions are thrown in and always that disgusting slimy gherkin that no-one likes is added that always causes me to question, "why do they bother?"
In your inebriated state you pay the "Chef" your money in return for your vittles and don't notice that you handed him a tenner and he gave you change for a five. You wolf it down.
This is the moment you realise that maybe a proper takeaway would have been a better idea. "What's that strange taste you ask yourself?" As slowly it dawns on you that you are in fact eating the worst burger in your life. By this time you've eaten three quarters of it, you feel violently ill (possibly due to the alcohol possibly the burger) and you find a tail.....that's right a tail mashed in within the burger.
Your friends then point out that the same thing happened last week and you are in fact eating the same rat burger you swore last Saturday you would never do again! "Crikey what an idiot" you think as you throw the last bit away.
You turn round and smile at the burger man and he thinks...."see you next week fellas!"