May one enquire what gives you the right to decide what I should tell people? You're overstepping your remit here by quite a margin.
Plus, if I go to this place in Colindale and there's no booze, I will twist your little jew cock off and ram it up your saggy old arsepart. And the Lord will look kindly upon my work.
You can't go around saying you're undecided about the idea that there's a flying spaghetti monster and then get all huffy when people occasionally step in and tell you to stop being a spastic.
I didn't see any booze, but I did have a delightful chilled passion fruit bubble tea. Could that work for you guys?
There's an all-singing all-dancing restaurant on the ground floor which I am sure serves wine. Just buy a bottle from there and take it up to the food court.
Go with an appetite and get the funky sounding dishes first. I made the fatal mistake of ordering the pigs intestines in ejaculate soup at the very end, and was rather uncomfortably close to vomiting
I'm kind of done with ordering the bizarre-sounding stuff. I've eaten oddness all over the world, from chicken feet and intestines to termites, ants and frogs and snake wine and snakeblood sauce and fried tarantula and locusts and crocodile and zzzzzzzz. Who can be ársed with all that nonsense now we're grown ups.
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."