This was my second foray into Fire & Stone. This was my first, read it if you haven't, so I don't have to repeat myself or, if you've already read it, re-read it if you don't have anything better to do. Those are sort of trick choices, because the 'nothing better to do' option is kind of defunct in that, if you actually have nothing better to do than re-read me natter on about a stupid pizza then may I suggest suicide as something 'better to do'. Basically, re-read it only if you are somehow incapable of suicide, e.g. paralysed, Roman Catholic, wimp etc. If any of these labels apply to you then you are excused, and by all means re-read away.
Sydney is both a city in Australia and a pizza in Fire & Stone. The former may be more well known than the latter at the moment, but I have a feeling a shifting of the scales is on the cards. This was a damn tasty pizza. Possibly my favourite Australia related thing since the TV show Oz and that wasn't actually about Australia, it just sounded like it was. It was more about brutal prison violence and gang rape. What a lark. Still, sounds preferable to five minutes in a pub with an Australian. I'm joking, those guys are great, and definitely don't have an annoying attitude or accent, no way Jose, top blokes, the lot of them. Everybody needs good neighbours and all that.
There was meant to be an egg on this pizza, and I think there was but I couldn't find it anywhere. I think it was mixed in with the sauce somehow because I could kind of taste it. Unless of course my brain was tricking me into thinking there was egg so it wouldn't have to think up creative insults and threats for the waiters when it was bill time. This is possible, my brain is terribly lazy. If it can get out of doing any work at all it will. It delegated my A-level psychology exam to my lower intestine. I got a U. Seemed my lower intestine knew absolutely nothing about cognitive theory, sorry Mr Dixon,
8 out of 10
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