As a modest and self-effacing man, I didn't agree immediately. But then I realised I'd be fucking spectacularly cock-on at it, so here goes - my first ever. I've tried to avoid the usual cliches of the restaurant review game and have instead chosen to develop my own style and scoring method.
Fat Boys' Bar-B-Q, Florida.
Fat Boys' Bar-B-Q has a bar, a barbecue and lots of fat boys. So the name is spot-on. It's not like one of those places in London called Le Foofoo de Poncenpoo, or SLOPS or The Kitchen and Room With Tables where you think you might nip in for a balti and a pint of cognac, but they don't do that sort of thing, oh no, they do pig's jizz on a bed of fanny farts, or stomach and beans, or stuff in French that turns out to be a wasp's bollock.
The room itself is less like a restaurant and more like a barn just after 35 cows and a dozen animal rapists have had a very long and angry party. The waiting staff, however, more than make up for that by demonstrating a consistently high standard of bristola or, in the case of the men, giving me beerz.
The food is, as you'd expect from a barbecue joint in America, more calorific than a deep-fried SuBo. First, I tried pulled pork, which came in a big pile on a big plate. Being nearly totally meat, it was excellent. So I had another one. Then I had some brisket, which was a bit of a cow they'd been cooking since 1976 or something, and that was mainly meat, so that got the thumbs up too. Had a couple of them, I seem to remember.
Then it was time for the main course (which I like to call The Blur because this is generally the point where things go a bit fuzzy, what with the food and the booze and that), and I tried the Sulley's Dawg Burger. 'Why's it called the Sulley's Dawg Burger?' I asked.
'Becuz iss reeyul beeeyug,' replied the waiter. 'And Sulley's dawwwg is reeyul beeyug.' He could teach a lot of copywriters a thing or two, that boy.
It was a superb burger, being mostly meat, so a further thumbs up. I accompanied it with a bottle of a local beer, a local bourbon, a local beer, a local alcopop, a local beer and a local girl called Deedee. Then I tried the 42oz ribeye, the triple-triple-dog (nine frankfurters in a baguette), the Pork Motherload Ribs (basically, 50% of a pig) and the Fat Cow Sandwich (assorted fat from a cow, in a sandwich).
I also tried to eat part of the table, arm-wrestle the barman and marry seven of the waitresses. Sadly, the over-fussy owner would rather his customers didn't enjoy themselves and, with the help of three of his nine sons, threw me into a 'creek', or as we call it, 'ditch full of shit'.
For that reason, I can't tell you what the desserts were like, but all the clientele were fat cunts, so they must be nice.
All in all, I'd recommend Fat Boys' Bar-B-Q for a lads' night out, or a date with a fat, greedy girl you don't like much.
Scores (out of 10 Knockles):
Overall: 6 Knockles.
Meat: 9 Knockles.
Bristolas: 8 Knockles.
Ambience: 3 Knockles.
Tolerance of goosing waitresses: 2 Knockles.
Price: $0.00 if you get chucked out by the owner.
Pretty fucking groundbreaking stuff, I think you'll agree. If you know a restaurant you'd like me to review the shit out of, let me know.
Why? Because I AM THE RESTAURANT CRITIC!