KFC Karrinyup — Restaurant in Karrinyup

A MOST FOUL ENCOUNTER AT KARRINYUP KFC As Recounted by Michael Brownie, Dissenter, Patriot, and Survivor of the Chicken Calamity Circa 1899, or thereabouts

My Dear Sirs and Madams,

Permit me, if you will, a few moments to unburden my soul, still trembling from the recent culinary defilement I was made to endure. For it was at the Karrinyup KFC, that monument to misplaced trust and fried deception, that I—Michael Brownie, proud citizen of taste and dignity—suffered one of the gravest insults to both mouth and manhood.

The Scene of the Crime From the exterior, it promised comfort. Warm lighting. Polite signage. The haunting face of Colonel Sanders himself, peering down as though to say, “Come, weary traveller. Rest. Feast.” And feast I did—but only upon betrayal.

No sooner had I crossed the threshold than the foul odour struck me. Not of chicken, nay, but of despair, damp mop, and what I can only describe as deep-fried treason.

Dutch van der Linde, ever the ringleader of folly, leaned over and whispered:

“Trust me, Brownie. Karrinyup’s the future. No more campfires. Just crispy, bloodless freedom in a bucket.”

He was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Grease and Madness Arthur Morgan took one bite of a wicked, shrivelled tender and spat it upon the tiles with a grunt of war-wounded agony.

“This ain’t meat,” he said. “This is… a curse.”

Even John Marston, who once gnawed the leg off a half-frozen possum, recoiled at the contents of the “Zinger Box.” His words still echo in the silence of my nightmares:

“That sauce ain’t ranch… it’s vengeance in liquid form.”

And there, in the corner booth near the window where dignity goes to die, sat Lil’ Jack—grease-streaked, wild-eyed, whispering to a chicken wing as though it were his long-lost father.

“It speaks to me,” he hissed. “It says the mash is made of lies…”

I left immediately after a rogue chip assaulted my boot, its texture more sponge than starch. I do not exaggerate when I say I saw it move. It wriggled, Brownie. It wriggled!

The Final Offence I, Michael Brownie, solemnly swear: the coleslaw was warm.

WARM.

You may think this a minor quibble, but I assure you, in that moment, it was an existential threat. I demanded recompense, but was met only with vacant stares from staff who had clearly long since surrendered their souls to the deep fryer.

Summary for the Civilised Chicken: Questionable at best, criminal at worst.

Chips: Stale, soft, and possibly sentient.

Staff: Hollow-eyed husks.

Colonel Sanders: A false prophet.

If I could rate lower, I would. May the spirits of real chickens haunt this place forevermore.

Signed with a shaking hand and an unsettled gut, Michael Brownie Man of Honour. Enemy of...

Listen, I'm not usually one to complain on Google reviews, but tue serviceI received tonight was awful.

I asked my boyfriend to go collect an order placed through the KFC app from the drivethru and when he came home we were missing 6 pieces of chicken and all of our nuggets.

The young man that handled the situation was very rude and accusatory even though I had approached the situation calmly by just asking for the missing items from my order.

He told me he packed the order himself and there was a second box that had our items in, but we had never received a second box with our items, only the one.

I was able to receive the items missing from the order but he informed me he would not be doing this again and insinuated that I had lied about the missing items and slammed the window in my face.

My partner and I have never had a correct order since we've gone to this KFC and the service we received tonight was beyond...

two years ago. This was one of the better KFC. THE LAST 2 PURCHASES HAVE BEEN BAD.

1st, the wait time was 1 hour despite ordering online.

Today, there were only 2 people in the store ordering. We ordered a family feast, when the food arrived at the waiting area, I reach out for the bag and it was stained with gravy, I had thought that one of the gravy and mash had spilled but the person handing it to us, 'its ok, it not spilled, that is just the gravy from the bench!' Why or why would you hand to the customer a bag that is stained! If I did not know it was stained, it would have gone onto my pants or even worse the seat of my car!

On top of that, when we got home, we found out that there was only 9 pieces of chicken instead of 10!

Went back to the shop and spoke to the manager, guess what, the person that serves us the stained bag. As I was speaking to him, another customer walks in with a missing piece of chicken.

Get your...