"If your taste buds are about as refined as a brick or wet stone and you think that a gourmet meal is anything that doesn’t come out of a tin, then welcome to your new favourite spot. Maybe the writing was on the wall before we arrived, or should I say in the name. W(h)et Stone! We ventured into this culinary catastrophe and dared to order their so-called Standard Breakfast, with the simple request to hold the Black Pudding. Now, despite my 20/20 vision, I found myself in a game of hide-and-seek with what was supposed to be a complimentary egg. Spoiler alert: the egg didn’t show up. My equally unfortunate accomplice, decided to try the Veggie Breakfast. To our bewilderment, what they called a veggie burger turned out to be two sad, cylindrical objects that could only be veggie sausages in some parallel universe where taste and texture don’t matter. They were more like the offspring of a failed experiment between tofu and despair. The speed at which our order arrived was impressive, reminiscent of a fast-food joint that’s given up on even pretending to care. This, of course, means that the only thing likely cooked to order were the eggs, assuming they ever existed, which in my case, they did not. Now, let’s talk value. We handed over £15.50 for this dismal duo of breakfasts, and it felt like being mugged in broad daylight. To call it a waste of money is an understatement. I’ve had more satisfying meals from a vending machine. This place attracts a very particular type of clientele – the kind who couldn’t tell the difference between cheap produce and quality food if it danced naked in front of them. Look around, and you’ll quickly identify the patrons: a smattering of motor garages, the local council refuse and waste depot workers, and a business unit know for equipping you with everything you need to start your own cannabis farm. It’s a haven for those who believe that ketchup is a food group and whose idea of fine dining involves a plastic tray and a microwave. The decor, if you can call it that, looks like it was assembled by someone who lost a bet. It’s as if they raided a charity shop clearance sale and thought, “This will do.” Mismatched chairs, tables that wobble more than a drunk-on roller skates, and lighting that makes everyone look like they’ve just escaped from a horror film. It’s an ambiance that screams, “We’ve given up.” And let’s delve deeper into the quality of the food – or lack thereof. The bacon was a crime against pork, more like leather strips that had been left out in the sun for days. The sausages were pale, lifeless tubes that seemed to be filled with something that might have once been meat but had long since lost any connection to flavour. The beans, oh the beans, were a sad, gelatinous mass that resembled something you’d find in a science experiment gone wrong. The mushrooms were soggy, lukewarm and tasted as if they had been soaked in dishwater, and the tomatoes were limp, flavourless blobs that might as well have been plastic. Each bite was a journey through the various ways one can ruin perfectly good ingredients. Even the tea, a British staple that’s hard to mess up, was a travesty, arriving tepid and with a faintly metallic taste as if it had been steeped in an old tin can. Every element of the meal screamed indifference and a total lack of culinary skill. It’s as if the chef had a personal vendetta against food and decided to take it out on the customers. Each bite was a new low, a fresh insult to the taste buds, leaving you wondering how on earth this place stays in business. In summary, if you’re looking for a place where culinary dreams go to die, where value for money is a distant fantasy, and where the clientele would struggle to distinguish fine dining from dog food, then this is your spot. Just remember to bring your sense of humour, because you’ll need it to survive this gastronomic nightmare. Service: Dine in Meal type: Breakfast Price per person: £1–10 Food: 1 Service: 2 Atmosphere: 1"