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  • We were at Piccolo Diavolo on Old Compton Street last night. The smell from outside was irresistible, and weakened our trembling knees. Once inside, after being ignored for too long, we sat down to realise there was no whiff at all. Not a dicky-bird. Almost like piped music – perhaps they emit delicious fragrances from hidden pipes outside.

    Anyway, good pizza, well versed and familiar Italian bonhomie by the waiter who seems to never tire of his shtick, even though the waitress couldn’t hide her dead-eyed dissatisfaction with her lot. Pouring beer just isn’t pushing her buttons anymore. Decent place though, nice to be around gesticulating, vibrant people, laughing at not much.

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