Pronto Pizza: Pepperoni

When this arrived the other night I was concerned because it looked like they'd got my order wrong. Play 'Where's Wally?' on the picture above, except this time it's called 'Where's Pepperoni?'. You'll lose. It was there though, just hidden under the cheese. Like they were trying to smuggle it past the border that is my mouth, into the low-paying horticultural and landscaping industry that is my belly. It worked and I was awash with pepperoni/illegal immigrants. If my body was a democracy, (it's not, it's a dictatorship and I'm the dictator and I will be until I die) then a right-wing government would probably print off a series of campaign posters with pictures of evil looking pepperoni with exaggerated, racist facial features groping young girls, robbing old people and hogging jobs. Thankfully for struggling pepperonis all over the world, when it comes to meat immigration, I have a pretty relaxed policy. I don't think I even have customs or passport checks or anything like that. Everyone's welcome. Come on in. I might regret this one day, or even today in fact. Actually definitely today, because I've recently noticed a significant increase in the amount of tummy I have. It's OK, I'm going to start jogging twice a year. That should sort it out. I just wish someone had told me excessively eating stodgy, fatty foods on an almost daily basis and then lying or sitting down all the time would give me the chubbs. Misled youth or what?

Pronto Pizza is on Stoke Newington Church Street and has a whole selection of contradictory offers that you'd need a complex diagram to fully understand. I took the easy option and went for the 'Buy One, Get One Half Price'. Which was pretty good because they're not that expensive to begin with and assuming you have friends, (perhaps a foolhardy assumption) it means you can get an XL for around £7. Not bad. Also they're pretty tasty and have that kind of oil that makes paper transparent and if you get it on your clothes, it will literally never come out. This makes the whole thing more exciting because there's that little hint of danger. If you're not careful, you could ruin a t-shirt. The only way you could get higher stakes than that would be if you hot-boxed a slaughterhouse.

8 out of 10

Co-op: Chilli Chilli Bang Bang

Someone in Co-op's branding department needs to get fired. I'm all for a good pun. In fact there's not much I like more than a witty play on words. In the unlikely event of you being curious, here's some of the few things I do like more than puns: Take Me Out, my cat, freshly squeezed orange juice, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and Krysten Ritter. That's about it. Everything else can git aurrt as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, what ground my gears about the name of this pizza was that, sure, it had chillies on, and 'chilli' sounds like 'chitty' and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a film, but so what? Chitty Chitty Bang Bang has nothing to do with this pizza, or any pizza. Perhaps if this pizza could somehow abduct children or had a terrible-to-the-point-of-being-potentially-racist cockney accent then I'd get it. But, to my knowledge, it can't and doesn't. (I should point out there weren't any children present at the eating of this pizza so I can't confirm or deny it's kidnapping skills outright). Also does Dick Van Dyke even have his silly accent in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Or is that just in Mary Poppins? Don't answer, I so don't care about whether he does or not that I'm annoyed I even wrote it down, and I'm not going to waste even more time deleting it. But then explaining it to this extent is actually taking up even more time. Oh God. I'm just going to stop before this gets worse and I scratch my own eyes out.

6 out of 10

Franco Manca

If you don't know me in real life then it would be so great if we could pretend that my recent splurge in inactivity is due to me being in prison for a really cool crime. Some Ocean's 11 style con or fighting off a gang of rapists and accidentally killing one like Nicolas Cage in Con Air. I'd be pretty pleased if I went to prison for something like that. After I got out I'd definitely try and slip the fact I'd been sent down into as many conversations as I could. Typically I imagine it would go something like this:

Person: "Nice weather we're having huh?"

Me: "Yeah. Do you know where you don't really see much weather?"

Person: "No."

Me: "In prison."

Person: "Mmhmm."

Me: "Yep. I know that because I just got out."

Person: "Right."

Me: "Of prison that is. I've been in prison."

Person: Makes ringing noise out of the side of their mouth. Answers pretend phone call. Walks away.

Me: Sobs silently into hands.

Pretty dramatic right?

Anyway, the opinion of the enlightened masses is that Franco Manca do one of the best pizzas in the UK and whenever I'm in Brixton I eat there because how often am I in Brixton? (Clue: Not often, because I like my belongings). They use some fancy kind of dough that takes 20 hours to rise. That seems like a long time but I can't be too critical because that's about the same amount of time it takes me to get up in the morning (or afternoon), (or evening. BTW my life's a joke). This confirms what I've been telling my mother/therapist/whoever's sitting next to me on the bus for years. I am as lazy as pizza dough. It's not like I'm asleep, it's more like there's very little I need to get done that involves getting out of bed. Also I have a wonderful cat who comes and sleeps on my belly and if you can get up and walk away from that you must have a heart made of soggy, popped tennis balls.

My favourite thing about these pizzas would have to be the fact that they're chewy. Kind of like a marshmallow, only heterosexual. Marshmallows are definitely the Russell Grants of the confectionary world, in the sense that they're fat, gay and harmless. Not that they possess any astrological insight. But then I've never asked one about my zodiac so what do I know? In case you're curious, I'm a Gemini. Which means you can't trust me with anything. I will fuck you over and stab you in the back 100% of the time because of planets and space or some shit. You've been warned.

If I was a character in Glee or Gossip Girl or some TV show that isn't Game of Thrones I'd probably describe these pizzas as 'totes delish' but I just checked and do still have balls so I can't really get away with that. So instead I'll simply call them 'really quite tasty'. Apparently there's a Franco Manca in the Westfield in Stratford which is much closer to me so if anyone wants to go one day I'd be totally up for it. I don't even care if I know you or not, but if I don't then please don't expect me to talk or look at you, that would be weird.

10 out of 10

Pizza Sandwich 2

I tried this a while ago, and unless you consider mid-evening, self induced vomiting a sign of success, it was an unmitigated disaster. I refuse to believe the concept was the problem, because I still feel it's a pretty solid idea. I think where I went wrong the first time (aside from making the various life choices that led me to trying it in the first place) was that I let quantity take precedence over quality. I've since realised that when you're putting two pizzas on top of one another to make a giant pizza sandwich, quantity isn't really an issue. This was a mistake I was reluctant to make twice. Only reluctant, mind you, not incapable.

Anyway, Sainsbury's were doing a buy one get one free on Pizza Express and this seemed like enough of a sign to consider having another go at giving myself heart disease. Besides, other than being an atheist sceptic, who am I to deny fate itself?

One of the lessons I'd taken from last time was that despite what workaholic dentists may tell you, there is such a thing as too much filling. With this in mind, I bought one Sloppy Giuseppe and one Margherita. I'm OK with Pizza Express. Even though they're expensive and too small, they're still better than most store bought pizzas. Don't be too impressed by this however, because on the scale of achievements, 'being better than most store bought pizzas' sits between 'putting your shoes on the correct feet first time round' and 'getting through a bus journey without crying'.

Overall, it was pretty good. Certainly better than the last attempt, but then snorting a line of iron filings would have been better than the last attempt so who knows what that means. I certainly don't, and I wrote it, so what chance do you have?

7 out of 10

Homemade Pizza

Pizza #1 Slightly deformed, potentially incestuous. Still tasty.

I've been doing this blog for nearly two years now and in that time I've eaten a lot of pizza; and as we all know, with great eating comes great learning. A bit like how Vikings would drink the blood of their enemies in the hope they would absorb their fighting knowledge, like a more gruesome Highlander, I feel I've digested enough pizza to now know what I'm talking about. What I'm trying and failing and getting distracted by Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery to say is that I think I've now eaten enough pizza made by other people to have a go at making it myself. If my Father were alive and literate, I'm sure he'd be hugely disappointed that this will be the greatest achievement of my twenty-five years.

Pizza #2 Getting better, maybe the result of a coupling of greater distance. If the last one was brother-sister, this is maybe cousin-cousin? Maybe even second cousins, or is that me being big headed?

Whenever I'm feeling unsure what the right thing to do is, or lost like a lamb with no shepherd, there's one book I turn to for advice, spiritual support and hope for Mankind's salvation. I think we all know what I'm talking about, Jamie Oliver's 30 Minute Meals. Seriously, the recipes in this totally make up for Jamie's multitude of sins. Which I've handily listed right here:

• He dresses like a rich, fat, fourteen-year-old on non-school uniform day (i.e. he's making an effort, but it's still gone horribly, horribly wrong).
• He calls everyone 'brother'. He is way too white to do this.
• His haircut is so, so awful, to the point that it almost excuses those dreadful trucker hats he keeps wearing.
• When he's tasting something he does that thing where he rotates his finger because he's concentrating on the flavours so much. This annoys me because I've started doing that when I cook, and I hate to think I'm that easily influenced.
• His wife is too beautiful.
• He cried a lot on his American show and made us, as a nation, look weak and badly dressed.
• He opened a shop near my Dad (who's not really dead or illiterate FYI) where people learn to cook a meal then buy all the ingredients for it. This feels too smug and makes me want to riot a little.

But, like I said, all those perhaps over zealous criticisms are forgiven because this book is so handy. Particularly it's recipe for Cheat's Pizza. I guess it's called 'cheat's' because you cook the pizza in a frying pan not in a wood-fired oven. This annoyed me because I only found that out after I'd bought and installed a massive wood fired oven in my tiny kitchen. It's huge, it blocks the kitchen door and I think my flatmate Jack is stuck in there because I haven't seen him for a few weeks and there's a weird(er) smell coming from the other side.

Pizza #3 This guy's parents met online, they're both really good looking and from entirely different countries. Actually one of them was black. Yep, that's right, this pizza was so good, it was mixed race.

Basically you fry the pizza for 10 or so minutes then stick it under the grill for 5 minutes. It tastes pretty good and is really quick to make. As you can see from the photos my pizzas, like my belly, are getting steadily rounder. I've tried to give these pizzas a fair and unbiased score, it wasn't easy, but I think you'll agree this is what they deserve:

10 out of 10

!!! Faux-Posh Pizza Double Review !!! Maximum WOW !!!

So it looks like fancy pizzas are the new 'in-thing' in the mass pizza delivery world. How exciting. Call your children to tell them. If you don't have children that's fine, just record a video of you telling them to show your future baby the moment it pops out of your/your wife's/your girlfriend's/some girl's vagina.

At least this is the information I'm gleaming from Domino's and Pizza Hut's recent foray into 'not-obviously-crap' pizzas. I like the idea of companies watching the rise and fall of pizza trends. I'd like to think there are such things as pizza trends. It's nice to imagine they have charts and graphs measuring the popularity of various toppings all pinned up in their boardroom, so they know what kind of pizza is most likely to be the biggest thing on the pizza scene since someone decided to stuff a crust. There must be countless meetings where a bunch of pizza bigwigs discuss what new, so-hot-right-now, pizza is going to be the pizza equivalent of the music industry's seemingly relentless attempt to cash-in on the pedo-pound. They're searching for their very own Justin Pizzber. That's not a great pun, but I needed to lighten the mood quickly because mentioning pedophiles is rarely good for morale.

ANYWAY. Here's a couple of pizzas that, despite the fact they were obviously thought up in a horrible, corporate factory somewhere and are made of shit, are trying to convince me they're Fancy-Pants McCheese. Like they think I'm stupid. I'm going to prove I'm not stupid by writing about them. Could a stupid person write an irritating, pointless review to be read by perhaps a dozen people? I think not.

Domino's Gourmet Range: Rustica

So this is Domino's attempt at class and it's a bit like the pizza equivalent of MTV's G's to Gents. Did you ever watch that? It was like a hip-hop version of Tool Academy. You didn't watch that either? Good for you. Basically they just took a bunch of loser dickheads who all thought they were major players in the game and told them to start wearing ties. Not that that's bad advice, it's just that some people look so uncomfortable in a tie you wish they'd take it off because it's making your neck itch. 

That's pretty much what's going on here. Domino's are dressing one of their regular pizzas up in a fancy suit and telling me he's a changed man. As if just because they're using 'SunBlush' baby tomatoes, the maxi-stodge base isn't going to turn my belly into the digestive equivalent of a motorway pile-up. As if having something as unconventional as spinach on there is going have me reassessing my belief that all Domino's ingredients are actually made from the same Play-Doh-like substance and all the guy at the shop has to do is paint the different toppings the right colour. No way buddy. Not happening dog. I'm like the girlfriend of a recently released convict who got banged up for domestic battery. "You ain't never getting in this house no more! No way, no how!"

Pizza Hut: Primo Italiano

'Primo Italiano'? Seriously? That's the best name you could come up with? It sounds like when you're on holiday and your Dad talks in an accent because he thinks that will help locals understand him. If that has ever happened to you, then don't worry, I don't know that because I was hiding behind a lamp post, watching, while your Father argued with an Italian traffic warden outside the airport. I'm not stalking you, or following you and your family and that dipshit boyfriend of yours around while you're all on holiday. That would be weird. Anyway, plane tickets to Tuscany are too expensive at this time of year and I know you might think you saw me when you were at that market trying on that bracelet but try and remember I have a very generic face. It could have been anyone. Anyone except me.

Anyway, this pizza can do one. It's like those guys that go to bars alone in tacky suits and sit there sipping a lime and soda and barging their way into girls' conversations. They reek of cheap perfume and I imagine they get home at 2am and try and call their mother and when she doesn't pick up they have a crank and stay up all night entering those TV roulette shows. I feel sorry for those guys. I don't feel sorry for this pizza though because it's just a pizza and therefore has no feelings, only cheese.

Verdict:

When you polish a turd all you end up with is a polished turd. Which admittedly is better than a normal turd, (it's all nice and polished for God's sake!) but it is still a turd and you wouldn't want to put it in your mouth. Which is exactly what I did with these two pizzas. But then I am by no means a good example of someone who makes sensible decisions concerning what to put, and not put, in their mouth (not much homo).

Princi: White Cheese and Smoked Ham

Princi is a bakery on Wardour Street. I like it because it's simultaneously classy and cheap. Sort of like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. What gives Princi the edge over Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman is that, as far as I know, Richard Gere was not involved at any point, and had nothing to do with the production of my pizza. That was a good call, managers of Princi. Before they opened they probably had a meeting debating whether or not to have a Richard Gere themed restaurant, mercifully they decided against it. They didn't even opt for a subtle compromise, like a loaf of bread shaped like RG's big, smug, face. They took a staunch 'No Gere Here!' policy, and it paid off. As far as an extra point being added to their score on a lame, little pizza blog that is read by precisely no one of significance* can be considered 'paying off'.

I got this pizza on a Tuesday night, and even though it was only a Tuesday, Princi was totally full and there was nowhere to sit. So my companion and I decided to find a nice park bench and have a late night, urban picnic. I'd never noticed this before, but the West End of London is severely lacking in the park bench department. We literally walked around for about forty-five minutes, and literally did not see a single bench. Literally, literally. In fairness this was only a minor inconvenience. Grumpy, middle-class white boy had to sit on the curb to eat his fancy pizza, boo fucking hoo, but it did make think how tough it must be being a homeless bum in that part of London. Sure there are probably shelters for them to sleep in, but I imagine those places have a bit of condescending view on all the crack and smack that I, as a homeless bum, would be looking to score.

*If you are reading this and consider yourself significant, please give your reasons as to why and, if I find them convincing enough, I'll happily send you an apology, hand-written in blood (not my own).

7 out of 10