Order, order...

Our takeaway traumas took another turn earlier this week, when we decided to continue with our flamboyant lifestyle and get some pizzas. I spurned fancy telephone and internet ordering, preferring instead to walk to the second closest pizza 'n' kebab emporium (we boycotted the closest - the Quangoesque-named Hull Pizza - when it took them over two hours (two hours!) once to deliver an order that I'd originally gone in to collect but that they suggested bringing to our house 'very soon'). Anyway, this week I ordered a Mexican which, the menu on the wall pointed out, is that famous Mexican sauce Bolognaise topped with cheese and jalapeno peppers. The jalapenos are the important ingredient because, without them, you end up with the Italian. Which is precisely what happened. Do I not look and sound like a Mexican? Is it even worth me using words caciquismo if this is how things end up? I didn't phone to complain or take it back. I just ate my Italian and complained after every mouthful.