Khomali Albasra Bakery — Restaurant in London

This was, without exaggeration, the single worst dining experience of my life. If Dante’s Inferno had a tenth circle, this place would be it, reserved exclusively for anyone unfortunate enough to order from here. The shawarma itself? Imagine if someone took an old shoe, microwaved it, then slathered it in something resembling glue, and that would be generous. The pita was so stale it could have doubled as a roof tile, cracking with each bite, and the meat was an unidentifiable, gristly mess that had the texture of sandpaper dipped in grease. I’m honestly not sure it was chicken at all—more likely a science experiment gone wrong, or a deep-fried relic from some long-abandoned freezer.

And that "garlic sauce"—if you can even call it that. It smelled like it had been fermenting in an old sock drawer, tasted like sour mayonnaise mixed with an expired bottle of glue, and had the consistency of melted plastic. One whiff of that toxic sludge, and I nearly bolted for the door. To top it all off, the service was a tragic comedy. I waited an eternity for food that seemed to have been reheated several times, left to cool, then reheated again just for spite. The staff? Absolutely clueless and rude, giving off the distinct impression they’d rather be anywhere else, and honestly, so would I. After choking down a few bites, I left with my stomach churning and my spirit broken. If you value your taste buds, your money, or even just your basic human dignity, run in the opposite direction of this establishment. This wasn’t just bad food—it was a traumatic event.

I wouldn’t even feed this clump of atoms to a rat—no creature, great or small, should be subjected to the misery of this so-called shawarma. Honestly, even rats deserve better. This food is so vile, so utterly devoid of any redeeming quality, that I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy, let alone a poor, unsuspecting rodent.

I'm genuinely baffled that this place is still up and running. It’s less of a restaurant and more of a no-safe zone, like Chernobyl but with pita bread. I half-expected to see hazmat teams standing by when I walked in. The fact that they’re allowed to serve anything to the public is mind-boggling and, frankly, terrifying. This establishment should be marked off with caution tape and warning signs for miles, alerting anyone with functioning taste buds and self-respect to stay far, far away. If there’s any justice in the world, this place will be shut down before it causes more culinary trauma.

After eating here, I was hit with the worst stomachache of my life. Within an hour, I felt as if my stomach had turned into a washing machine set on “nightmare cycle.” I was doubled over in pain, sweating, and seriously questioning every life decision that led me to that first bite. The nausea was relentless, and let’s just say I became well-acquainted with my bathroom for the next 24 hours. This wasn’t just food poisoning; it was like my stomach was staging a full-on rebellion against this abomination of a meal. I’m convinced this place should come with a health warning. Avoid it at all costs if you value...

Whilst the kebab is decent, hygiene is most definitely a massive issue here. When we arrived, there were 4 skewers of what seemed like half-cooked kebab on the counter. We had ordered ten skewers for takeaway and those 4 skewers of old meat were included. Whilst observing them making the kebab, at first the grill was off- they added charcoal and straight away began to cook the meat- but it gets worse. The one making the kebab used the same gloves he used dealing with the cooked meat that he was using when putting the raw meat on the skewers. After eating, all of us who ate felt sick- this place has incredibly unhygienic practices. When I called them regarding this issue, a member of staff arrogantly said to me ‘There is nothing wrong with our food, the person making the kebab takes the cooked meat off of the skewers using a slice of bread’, as if that makes it any better. I also clearly saw him arranging the skewers in the container with those same gloves! Place needs to be checked out by...

I dined here with friends yesterday, and now we’re all regretting it deeply. The fries were a sad sight—dark and green, as if they’d given up on life. The wrap was so poorly folded that half of its contents spilled onto the tray, which looked like it hadn't seen soap in decades. It was coated in layers of black grime, a perfect metaphor for our experience.

The soda cans were equally horrifying, caked in dirt around the tops where you’re meant to drink. At first, I thought it was just mine, but it turned out my friends’ trays and drinks were just as disgusting. We also faced an absurd level of incompetence, with our orders wrong multiple times. Each mistake felt like a cruel joke, compounding our misery.

This was not just a meal; it was an exercise in endurance. I’ve experienced heartbreak, loss, and sadness, but this meal somehow managed to encapsulate all of those feelings in one incredibly depressing dining experience. I wouldn’t wish...