Dixy Fried Chicken

So Dixy Chicken (the one I went to was in Barking on 54 Station Parade) is open really late. People at this hour are probably inebriated. So here’s a handy guide for those who are. For Americans, Dixy’s fried chicken tastes exactly the same as Roy Rogers. For Brits, Roy Rogers’s fried chicken tastes exactly the same as Dixy Chicken. For others, it means the breading is super crunchy and extremely salty. And for everyone, avoid the popcorn chicken. It’s not chicken.

Within my circle of friends we have a phrase which is, «don’t tell Flick.» This refers to my friend Flick who is adorable and never preachy but nevertheless a vehement eco warrior, with a special distaste for the cheap meat industry. So do I but in quite a pathetic, lackluster way and so when I do occasionally eat Dixy and later confess to other friends, we all chorus «don’t tell Flick.»
I don’t want to think about how it is possible to serve a chicken burger, chips and drink for £2.50. well I do a bit, my guess is that there is a genetically modified dead chicken the size of Wales somewhere in a huge freezer being made into the dinner of everyone who refuses to go organic and free range.
I know it’s wrong but I love it. It’s tastier than KFC and half the price, the salty goodness is too hard to give up and I go there sometimes when I’m drunk because I am weak and genetically predisposed to the unnatural and obsessive love of chicken. I had to get that off my chest, I am sorry Flick, please forgive me.