Name: The £60 doner kebab.
Age: New this month.
Appearance: A kebab on a mission to confront preconceptions.
Go on, then. I forgot to eat before I went out. That’ll be £60, please.
For a doner? Even I’m not that drunk. If you need to be drunk, I’ll get you the £40 wine menu.
All that money and it doesn’t come with a drink? For that money you don’t even get a plate.
They make you pay for the plate, too? There are no plates. Your food is served directly on to the counter, and you’re encouraged to eat it with your hands.
That’s disgusting. Don’t worry – the counter is very clean.
I’ve heard that before. It’s made of a substance called Dekton, which is impervious to bacteria. And it’s heated.
What if I want to take my doner away? Am I supposed to slide it into my handbag? You won’t wish to leave. There is so much more to come.
Mate, what kind of kebab shop is this? It’s called Kebab Queen.
And where is it? It’s inside another restaurant.
A kebab shop within a kebab shop? Downstairs from the popular eatery Maison Bab, in Covent Garden, central London, is a replica British high-street shop front, behind which lies an open kitchen with a 10-seat countertop, recreating the vibe of your local late-night takeaway.
For 60 quid. Yes, please. All major cards accepted.
How many kebabs will I get for my money? You will get one kebabito: two mouthfuls of higher-welfare foie gras, barbecued and served on a tiny buttermilk flatbread.
Sounds a bit small. That’s just the start of a six-course tasting menu – doner risotto with lamb’s tongue, monkfish shish kebab …
Try saying that when you’re drunk: “monkfish shish kebab”. And then there’s pudding – milk buns filled with caramelised cream and topped with creme fraiche sorbet.
None of this sounds like a doner. Well, no. But at Kebab Queen, chef Manu Canales says he aims to take kebabs “as far as they can go”.
He’s certainly pushing the envelope price-wise. The reviews have been great so far. A Michelin star is predicted.
I think I’d like to come back when I haven’t just drunk five pints and peed on my shoes behind a skip. As you wish, sir.
Do say: “I’ll take the rum-aged, spit-roasted Fesenjān duck with a crust of crisp Persian rice. And a Sprite, yeah?”
Don’t say: “What’re you looking at?”