Starbucks, and their eyesore ubiquitous presence at every corner of London, has
become as annoying and irritatingly bothersome as did the "Golden Arches" of a
certain feed chain that serves indescribable junk. There is hardly a landmark in
the capital not tarnished by the logo of a greenish siren, whose breasts had the
nipples retouched so not to offend members of a Tea party or not to invoke
some insatiable appetite for lactose from maternal springs, nearby.
It irks me that the greenish company is obsessed with its image rather than
with the mission it pretends to propagate: to serve a basic, decent and
palatable liquid out of coffee beans. That mission is betrayed daily, with each
cup they dish out. No wonder they don't dare to set foot on Italian ground, for
there you get what coffee worshippers like myself are looking for. London is
blessed with many Italian and French coffee shops, that not only offer fabulous
coffee but cakes that actually do justice to the espresso, and provide a
Bohemian atmosphere to enjoy.
The practice of dispensing a despicable brownish liquid in the setting of a
wannabe-hippish outpost for followers of a tree-hugging cult should be torpedoed
by those of us with their senses still intact, both on the tongue and in the
head. Shun the starbuckers!
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