Shaker & Company – London’s Best Kept Secret

When I see things on Twitter like ‘RT to win a DKNY handbag’ and all that malarkey, I do think to myself ‘yeah alright, my beard’, but in any case I like retweeting the shit out of shit anyway just for banter. Being a perpetual loser, when Shaker and Company in London said I’d won £100 free bar tab I thought yeah ok this is going no where. I gave them my email address and they told me to just email when I wanted to come, so I got my mates Little Em and Lindsey and informed them we were going ‘UP TAAAANNN’.

We had to make a quick stop off in Romford to pick Em up (if you are ever near the Romford Fragrance shop swing by and say hi and buy a travalo), so having never been there we thought how hard can it be? We got lost in some market thing and literally found Liberty by luck after a fruitless phone conversation with Little Em that went like this:

Me ‘Em we’re at Market Hall, MARKET HALL’

Em ‘Where?’

Me ‘The sign says MARKET HALL we’ve just walked out but that’s basically where we were. MARKET HALL’

Em ‘can you see stalls?’

Me ‘Yes’

Em ‘you might be in the market bit then’

No way! Anyway like the proper classy ladies we are we had a beverage on the train and annoyed the hell out of everyone by basically being gobshites. Shaker & Company itself is nearest to Warren Street tube station and I’m thinking ‘I regret them 3 cans of rum and coke now’ because we have to find the place and you know what these little places are like they are always about 6 miles from the station, have a sign you cant read until you are on top of the place, and never have enough lights on to be obvious they are actually open.

We were lucky though, Shaker and Company is WELL EASY to find. You come out of Warren Street and walk up Hampstead Road in a straight line. For anyone that struggled with that, you come out of the station and walk in a straight line. If you see stalls, you might be at the market.

Now I was also getting a bit worried here thinking is this a real thing. Surely they are not going to genuinely let us loose on a £100 free bar tab? So we goes in acting like we do this sort of thing all the time and me massive tit that I am walks straight past the lovely table they reserved for us and tries to sit at a shit table near the bog. Strike 1. The Basildon in me told me to find it really hard to believe we could just rinse the bar tab on whatever we wanted, and the Essex in me came out when I’d already had a strong cocktail and asked the very patient bartender Callum:

‘What even PROSECCO? Oh my god are we even allowed to order Prosecco? Are you sure? AND food? is that alright? are you sure? can you tell us when we get close to the £100 though?’ Strike 2. Telling an Essex girl she can have free Prosecco is like a red rag to a bull really.

Needless to say, we ordered Prosecco. I’m not even sure if Lindsey and Little Em like it but lets face it if it wasn’t for me them bitches would of been paying for drinks. The staff were really, really attentive and I haven’t experienced customer service like that since I was in the Philippines. I felt I was finally being treated like the VIP I am. The cocktails are lovely and the food is immense. Go. Just go. When you do go, try the sweet potato fries they are honest to god AMAZING. They even had a few specials for St Patricks Day including a cocktail called Irish Mist which looked lethal. They are not open on Sunday’s but they are during the week and Saturday nights.

We actually ended up being sat next to some Canadian slags who were giving us evils all night (I cant think why, surely they didn’t mind their quiet drink being disturbed by us requesting and then rapping along to all of the words to ‘Juicy’ by Notorious B.I.G) so what I did was befriend them. When you blatantly know someone doesn’t like you my favourite thing to do ever is be really nice to them, honestly try it people find it well annoying.

Although not a big venue space wise, there was still a little dancefloor mosh pit thing going on which Lindsey and Little Em was getting well involved in but unfortunately we had to go to catch our train. We ended up going back to Grays for a kebab which is quite ghetto and I feel substantiated our earlier rapping. I didn’t actually get a kebab because I’ve got morals I got some chips and used the kebab places toilet, which is pretty standard for me as I literally need my next wee as soon as I’ve had the last one.

Thanks for a wicked night Shaker & Company and really looking after us. I’m very sorry I tried to nick an Irish flag for someone at work, which very inconspicuously popped out of my bag because I had bent the stick.

I aint crazy about the hangover this morning especially seeing as my chavvy neighbours have been shouting at their dog Tyson all morning. I tried Facetiming every I know for some sympathy in my delicate state, and I will leave you with the wise words my friend Lucy said to me about no one answering this morning:

‘Maybe people don’t want to look at people on a Sunday morning’.








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