I love Corbin & King, no they're not a perma-tanned pop duo from the 1970's but London's leading purveyors of Mittel European cafe culture. Every time I go to London I go to the Wolseley,
where I even mange to swallow down eggs in the cheerily jonquil form of their delicious lobster omelette - who can refuse opening their moth ridden purse when the bill is presented with such exquisite aplomb?
Fischer's is their latest Viennese whirl.
Schnitzel, brotchen, strudel, tortes mit schlag, I could stay here all day roughly hewing my own Hansel & Gretel house which is how I used to send myself off to the land of Nod as a child - rafters of Viennese fingers and a crazy paving path of broken sachertorte.
Is it not the Grand Budapest Hotel, hewn from rich mahogany and scented with beeswax?
If only Mr Gustave could be my date, remember, he likes the oldies.
Sorry to ruffle so many feathers the other day, yes I have changed the blog name, it's all about Badinage here now.
Faffing - I have had so many "Disgusted of Indiana" emails about this, no I am not swearing, it is not in any way related to the f word but blundering British style - think Hugh Grant in his films, he's the ultimate faffer.
So new name, new email, massive fail on changing the blog address so far.
So badinage and all that, hopefully the odd bit of persiflage and bonhomie
Oh it's a party now, chink!