Dear Greggs, or Gregg, I’m not sure how many Greggs will be reading this.
First of all this isn’t a complaint, I just want to share my experience in the hope others can avoid the same happening to them.
On my lunch break today I visited one of your fine establishments and treat myself to a Steak bake. Now I have to admit upon receiving said steak bake I was warned by the lovely lady that it had just come out of the oven. What I hadn’t realised that by oven, she meant baked in a kiln at the centre of mercury for ten years and brought back on the flaming fish slice of Hades.
Biting into the tasty pastry treat my mouth was immediately injected with what I can only describe as molten meat magma. As I was on a very busy main street I tried to continue eating the searing mouthful as to not attract attention, hoping it would cool down by doing that open mouthed ghaspy slurpy thing to try and cool it down, and I replicated the exact sound that Anthony Hopkins made when he was describing eating his fathers beans in Silence of the lambs (Or something like that).
Losing the battle to keep it in my mouth I attempted to elegantly spit the inferno back into the packet, hoping no one would notice my vile gravy regurgitation, unfortunately I failed to realise that the rest of the pasty was half unsheathed and sticking out of the packet and I ended up sticking my face nose first and into the boiling remainder. I instantly withdrew but now not only still had a mouth like a beef volcano, my face was now so covered in blistering gravy bits I looked like a vet who had just returned from a uncooperative cows colonoscopy.
Now turning quite a few heads, like a man being attacked by a swarm of wasps I furiously wiped my face with the a tiny piece of tissue I had in my pocket, it was a futile attempt and akin to someone mopping up a casserole with a postage stamp. I managed to get the thick off, and stood wincing in visible discomfort clutching my now sodden in brown gunk tissue paper, looking like I’d just been caught short on my way to the bogs at the metro.
Head down I set off immediately back to my car, I had to unfortunately bin the remainder of my steak bake as in the scramble to wipe my face I dropped it, though I wasn’t too concerned, this was from on of your South Shields outlets and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the first pasty that had been smashed on that street. That bin however has probably since melted to the ground.
So all in all it wasn’t a great experience, and I’m starving now but my mouth still feels like a Californian forest fire so can only manage to suck on an Ice cube (The frozen water variety, not the rapper).
Having said all that, is hasn’t put me off from returning to try some more of your pastry products. I quite fancy a Chicken bake next time, perhaps if I buy one tomorrow it’ll be just right for eating by the weekend.