Popadoms from the past

I AM enthralled to read that the first Indian restaurant in England was opened by a Mr Sake Dean Mahomet in George Street, London, back in 1809. I can only wonder how its patrons might have behaved.

Just imagine it. It’s 11.30 pm on the opening night. Byron and Shelley are arguing over the bill because Sir Walter Scott has done a runner after over-ordering the popadoms. Jane Austen is crying in the toilets, being comforted by Florence Nightingale, after someone threw mango chutney on her dress. On the wall above her head, John Constable has already scribbled some libellous graffiti about J.M. Turner. (“Paint? The ham-fisted dauber can't even draw a horse! And his mother shags stage coach drivers!”)

And meanwhile the Duke of Wellington, having ordered a double portion of Ye Olde Super Hotte Vindaloo, turns to the Prince Regent and bellows: “Gadzooks, My Lord. Come the morrow mine ringpiece shall be likened to a Japanese flag”. Some things never change.