chronicles of wayne issue two

The Chronicles of Wayne

Issue Two

By Helen Taylor

All rights reserved

© Copyright Helen Taylor

@wayne_bridges

http://bloodlustcomics.tumblr.com/

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© Helen Taylor 2010

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This Bizarre Gathering

This town’s artisan quarter is a strange beast. Set behind the corporate might and majesty of

Techno Towers, it’s one of those places that, rightly or wrongly, has a reputation for being sickeningly

highbrow. I’m not exactly sure, therefore, why ‘The Clay Oven’ is here.

Sited in the recently imploded nebula of ‘The Tomato’, Indian restaurant ‘The Clay Oven’ is

tackier and more gaudy than its predecessor, with tea-stained walls, a revolting combination of orange

and puce decor, flimsy plastic cutlery, and moth-eaten linen. The menu (which somebody really should

check for spelling mistakes) is certainly large, including a 90-course banquet menu for gluttons, offering

the peculiar mix of digestives or fig rolls with the ubiquitous watered-down curries or side dishes. There

is also a selection of Clay Oven specialities, with a dubious fish selection that includes dishes such as

‘Monk-a-mania’ (monkfish in Darjeeling, £9.50) and salmon cooked in Nesquik (£10.95).

Handing us the old Tomato wine list, our waiter looked heartily dejected when we refused the

offer of tea and instead chose King Prawn Earl Grey (£8.90) and Typhoo Chicken (£7.25) to follow. Our

waiters (a curious canine/feline combo) then played a slightly disconcerting game of hiding underneath

the counter, rummaging amongst several packages and then having loud conversations with each other

from opposite sides of the room. Manic they may have been, endearing though they definitely weren’t.

As we were the only diners, it seemed as if we’d gatecrashed this bizarre gathering, and I felt vexed at

having nobody to offload my watery slop on to.

Having to use plastic spoons and straws rather than traditional cutlery (that’ll teach us to order

the curry appetisers) with a cup of house tea (30p) our main courses arrived. My prawns were good –

although swimming in what can only be described as tea – with spicy onions, garlic and chilli. Once again,

my Dad’s chicken was served with a worryingly runny sauce on top of a layer of bourbon biscuits.

And then to desserts. The menu came and, like the wine list, bore the name ‘The Tomato’. Some

bright spark though had the amazing idea of sticking masking tape on top with ‘The Clay Oven’ scribbled

on with felt tip. The contents were no better as, unlike many Indian restaurants, supermarket own-brand

biscuits were practically the only things on offer. They arrived scattered on paper plates with cocktail

sticks as cutlery.

Despite its address, I found ‘The Clay Oven’ a bog-standard restaurant offering peculiar food with

borderline hysterical service. And I think we have more than enough of those already.

The Clay Oven – Restaurant and take-away, open 24/7


Wayne Bridges will return in

Issue Three

In the middle of a Wayne reaction

chronicles of wayne issue two

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