Katie's Cafe — Restaurant in Rotherham

absolutely revolting! came here today looked through the door. DIRT, MESS, BROKEN OVEN. left over food scattered among every single crevice in that shanty. i’m seriously disgusted. never ever ever am i and every connection i have will NEVER and i mean never eat here again. not one person was wearing gloves, aprons or hair caps. dirt was engraved in the nails and to wipe the spoon she brought out her crusty and fragile hand to wipe rapidly on the once was silver cutlery. just seeing this i wanted to back. but this is just the start. at such a rapid speed, she placed a PLASTIC cup that looked like it had never ever been placed in a suitable and clean environment in its life. Could have got better in a land fill! me and all my acquaintances will never be looking at such an awful place again. when she had finally made such an easy product (took around 15 minutes) she cracked a joke that no one could of laughed at and said “oo forgot to put the chocolate” the chocolate is a big important ingredient in the dubai CHOCOLATE strawberry cup. so this was ridiculous. no one was laughing but her! but when i came to paying she noticed her dirty fingerprint was smothered on top of the cup and claimed she could of wiped it but just didn’t. Please for your own safety and well being NEVER. EAT....

an experience i wasn’t expecting. from this very threshold of katie’s cafe- a spectacle of filth so profound it might have inspired a dissertation on entropy. The staff, devoid of gloves, aprons, or even the most rudimentary tokens of hygiene, moved with a kind of careless nonchalance that bordered on the theatrical. Dirt was practically engraved into their fingernails, a grim testament to the café’s war on cleanliness. When one attendant produced a spoon, she wiped it with a hand so crustaceous and timeworn it could have been a museum exhibit in microbial archaeology. My appetite, already tenuous, fled in abject terror. To compound the ignominy, the attendant required a leisurely fifteen minutes to prepare an insultingly simple concoction, only to quip—without a shred of comedic merit—that she had forgotten to include the chocolate, the singularly definitive ingredient of the so-called “Dubai Chocolate Strawberry Cup.” Her attempt at humor fell flatter than a punctured soufflé, eliciting only the profound silence of collective mortification. For the sake of one’s gastric integrity and general well-being, I entreat all prospective patrons to avoid this establishment as one would a plague-ridden catacomb. NEVER. EAT....

an absolutely deplorable excursion into culinary chaos. katie’s cafe presents itself not as a haven of hospitality but as a veritable theatre of grime, a tableau of unsanitary tumult so profound that one might reasonably expect rats to file a tenancy agreement. the floor was a mosaic of neglected crumbs and mysterious detritus, the air a fetid fog of forgotten cleaning schedules.

the tables bore the weary scars of countless unpolished afternoons, their surfaces sticky with a patina of indifference. utensils lay about with the defeated languor of soldiers lost in a domestic war zone, each fork a fallen combatant in the battle against hygiene. even the lighting, dim and unforgiving, conspired to illuminate every particle of dust with cruel precision.

service shuffled along with all the urgency of a rainy sunday train delay, offering tepid smiles and tepid beverages in equal measure. the entire scene possessed a post-apocalyptic charm—if one finds charm in the aroma of dereliction and the ambience of quiet despair.

for the sake of one’s stomach and one’s dignity, i would sooner dine upon the crumbs beneath the sofa than brave this rat-worthy...