I've wanted to go to Sarastro for years. Imagine two men very much in love. Let's call them Bill and Ted. Bill is planning a restaurant. Ted is designing it. Then they split up, but each agrees that they'll carry on with the restaurant. The result is like walking in on a row.
The design is hilarious, all balconies and gold paint that scream "love me! love me you bitches!". But the house lights are on, so it looks like Joan Rivers without airbrushing.
It is often said that revenge is a dish best served cold, and the service here neatly settled a lot of scores. Perfectly acceptable starters were followed by bizarre mains, clearly inspired by "I made you supper, but you didn't turn up". The least offensive bit was the broccoli, which had been boiled since November. Hilariously, my "chicken breast wrapped in parma ham and cheese" turned out to be one of these:
... with a slice of processed cheese on top.
The whole thing was so bad, I actually want to go again.