Have they taken Royal Admiration Tea-oo Far?

I had been planning to tell you about this place before I left for India. I visited this place a couple of days before I lugged my bags halfway across the world to India. So there we were - the Chinese Chatpati, Finnish Femme Fatale, the Mexican Mambo No.1 and the Indian Idiot - out like the Brits to try 'a spot of tea' with the Royalty.

Now, the average Brit might be not too posh or gushy about their royalty, but inside every Brit git there is a heart that beats for the Royalty. I mean, think about it, why else would they pay thousands of pounds every year to maintain the Queen and her brood? Would a couple of extra pounds less on their crippling taxes have not been preferable? Not really, if you are a Brit, it seems. The mandatory curtsy by men and women at the Wimbledon are the best reminders of that, for me...

We had been planning this for a while, let me tell you. It all began with a discussion across a crowded University pub about this 'awfully pretentious' place, where if you weren't dressed right and didn't know how to hold a teacup right, you could be refused to be served and thrown out!!! Chinese Chatpati knew someone who had been told to unpark herself from the hardly comfortable chair and leave..Kind of like Fit in or Ship out Mate!! 

Now Finn Fatale and Indian Idiot found this snortably funny. So we tested our repertoire of funny sounds and found that between us, we had a good collection. Mexican Mambo is the only guy in our class who is always willing for any spot of fun, even when it comes in the form of tea. The idea was to go there and irritate the crap out of the management if possible after sitting down for tea and see if we would be thrown out.

There we were, on a weekday, expecting to be the only people in Brighton with the idea of having tea at 2PM in the afternoon. From the outside and inside too, it looked as kitschy as Chinese Chatpati had said.

First glitch - No entry till 3PM, for there was a private bunny party on. We thought it would be in honour of the christening of someone's child, turns out it was a hen party. Women dressed for their girlfriend like bunnies..I thought it sounded kinky, and funnily that too in a tearoom!! We had little chance but to head elsewhere to spend some time till the tearoom could take in 'non-party' guests. At 3PM we were told, no entry till 3.30PM by a totally drunk bunny. A punch was folded back without being delivered, we decided to stick on, so much wait justified a teaful completion, didn't it?

At 3.30, we barged in, unmindful of the rude bunnies, ready to barbeque them alive if they even tried to move their whiskers. Sat down, right next to the windows. And that's when the kitschiness of the place hit us. Not a spot without some tacky or crazy Royal reminder of Britain's blue bloods.

This is when the second rude shock was delivered - the tearoom had changed management. We could snort and point our pinkies till our heart desired, there wasn't anyone to tick us off for our heathen behaviour, apparently. Deflated, we settled down to behave like ladies and have tea...ohhh..and the Mexican Mambo to be politically correct...

 

The Menu... Felt like we were invited for tea with the Royals themselves - Princess Anne tea and what not...What you think you will get is drastically different from what you get. The English tea service turned out in chipped cheap china teapots hidden behind gaudy tea cosies. Unmatched tea cups and plates must have been supposed to demonstrate quaint British charm. I'll refrain from commenting. 

The scones with clotted cream and marmalade is supposed to make up for all the shortcomings in British cuisine in other departments. Unfortunately, I was served scones baked about a week in advance of our visit, the tea was too weak to even be protested against. ( I refuse to believe that it is my inbred Masala Chai snobbery) 

 Poor Finn Fatale opted for sa'wiches over scones, only to find that it was made of pasty white store-bought bread lathered on tar thick with butter and sweet chutney. Chinese Chatpati quietly stoically sipped her tea, while I think Mexican Mambo was the most accepting of the situation. He had a simple question - what do you expect from a 12-pound service? The cheap Indian idiot said quite a lot more..Why in India in 12 pounds I could get you some fine tea and better service at the Tea Centre!!

 Then he laid down the killer line - but would you have had so much pictures to make up for the bad tea? True that...while we quietly paid up, we all said that to each other. Atleast we took a million pictures - Paisa vasool...We didn't get a chance to be thrown out or the satisfaction of having tea with the royalty. Hmmm..some cheap thrills are never meant to be.