Challenge Submission Bistro of the Apes

[OrganicIntelligence]

Bistro of the Apes

A review by John T. Hogsbottom​

It should be of no great surprise for those that read my columns religiously that the powers that be who hold my financial leash insist that I review every tacky novelty restaurant that pops up under the sun. You will no doubt remember that on previous occasions I was subjected to the likes of Jurassic Burger (which should have remained in the ground), Rollercoaster DIner where the food by itself was enough to make me lose my lunch, and Food of the Future, where if the future of fine dining is tiny nutrient blocks I'm afraid we should just abandon all hope for mankind anyway.

But somehow my employers had managed to find a new establishment that promised to provide entertainment value for you, my dear readers, above all else, and gave me my marching orders; I was to review Bistro of the Apes, a quaint little french food joint that promises a 'genuine ape-infused dining experience'.

Genuine ape-infused experience, eh? Well, I decided I would be the judge of that, so last Friday evening me and the missus put on our fine wear in what was surely an act of significant over-dressing and made our way for what we were certain would hopefully be a night of disappointment and third-rate food. What was an ape-infused dining experience? My wife imagined we would be served by little monkeys in bellboy uniforms, whilst I was expecting some pimply teenagers in bad gorilla masks.

Well, dear readers, I must admit to a mea culpa in this case because when we entered the front door of the premises and walked up to the welcome desk we were shocked to be greeted by what appeared to be three Barbary Macaques standing on each other's shoulders. My wife grabbed my shoulder and positively squealed when she pointed out that they were, in fact, all wearing uniforms exactly like she'd imagined. I was personally already getting annoyed by the fact that despite how well they were trained at their jobs, Barbary Macaques are categorically not apes and therefore the claim to a 'genuine ape-infused dining experience' was already quite suspect.

Despite this taxonomic faux pas our simian waiters did a surprisingly good job of allocating us a dining table and guiding us to it, even if they seemed to have trouble keeping themselves focused on the task at hand when one of the three that I presume was a female kept presenting her swollen backside to her male colleagues. Already adding further marks against the establishment from being exposed to this act of sexual harassment, our next difficulty came with actually ordering food wherein after making our choices from the menu (gratinée des halles for the wife and steak au poivre for myself) we had to contend with the fact that the two-hundred pound gorilla who came to take our order seemed to be having trouble understanding exactly what we were asking for, until my wife discovered that he was quite fluent in sign language. Koko would be proud, although I for one was not of the quality of service. At least he was a proper ape this time.

Following our order being taken we were left to our own devices to enjoy the evening's entertainment, and by 'entertainment' I mean watching what can only be described as taking the most unremarkable dining environment imaginable and turning it into a maelstrom of chaos. Not half a minute after our waiter departed a woman tumbled out of the next booth over in the midst of what appeared to be a wrestling competition with one of the simian waiters of her very shiny necklace, only for our attentions to immediately be grabbed by two chimpanzees screeching at each other on the far side of the dining area and proceeding to jump on the tables as they fought for dominance. Fur flew, and so did Bouillabaiss through the air. Quite markable.

By this point my wife was becoming quite frightened by our less evolved cousins rampaging about the place but I was afraid I had to insist that we stay and actually try the food; I could not honestly call myself a food critic if I did not actually try any of the menu items before passing judgement on their quality. However in this the establishment itself decided to frustrate us by leaving us waiting both on drinks and food for what felt like long enough for the waiting staff to evolve the capacity for speech, reason and doing taxes, yet our meals refused to materialise.

Deciding to take matters into my own hand I stood up from our table and made my way to the kitchen door, from behind which I could make out the sounds of plates smashing and frantic shouting. Seeing as nobody had objected to my intrusion I opened the door only to be greeted by the sight of a dozen apes of various persuasions swinging about and playing smash-the-porcelain, all whilst various fires raged around the place. My nostrils were assaulted by the smell of burning food and in the middle of all this chaos was the first homo sapiens member of staff I had seen since setting foot in the establishment. The unfortunate chef was trying very hard to command the apes to cease their frivolities and return to work, to which they only responded with raspberries and flashing parts of themselves I'd rather not mention.

I shouted at him to tell me what the bloody Hell was going on and where was our food, but he merely turned to me, madness in his eyes, frothing at the mouth, and despite my grabbing a fork to defend myself he grabbed me by the shirt lapels and screamed in my face that this entire place had been a bloody mistake and that he quit. He then removed his hat and stamped on it in front of me before running out the door and declaring himself quite loudly to be free.

Seeing as there no longer appeared to be anyone working in the kitchen with the slightest interest or conceptual ability to complete our orders I stomped back to our table, narrowly avoiding something unmentionable being thrown by a bonobo, only to find my wife cradling her arm with some very deep bite marks in it. I asked her what had she gotten herself into now and she explained gently that she'd tried to help some poor dear wrest her handbag from a baboon that had taken a liking to Chanel and received a bite for her efforts. I asked her to clarify if the bite was from the old lady or the monkey, to which she helpfully clarified the latter.

Deciding that enough was enough with such disgraceful service I supposed that my legitimacy as a critic could take the hit of leaving, which we hurriedly did along with several other patrons as several of the waiting staff appeared were starting to get a little aggressive to say the least. Out the door, the chorus of simian rage growing behind us, and as soon as we got back to the car I swore up a bloody storm about what we had just experienced before driving my wife to the hospital.

Long story short, worst dining experience of my life. Missus in the hospital, venue closed down due to health violations and I'm still waiting on my steak au poivre. Oh, and I still haven't even mentioned the scandalous prices!

0/5 stars. From now on I will take my dining experiences with as little ape infusion as possible, thank you.