Dear Frankie and Benny’s
Your are not a real Italian American restaurant.
Despite having Goodfella-style mass-produced family photos on the walls and playing 1950s songs on a continuous loop, the illusion is not an impressive one.
Your fake food is deeply average, over-priced, meagre, more-often-than-not luke warm and usually served by a disenfranchised foreign exchange student who hates your over-promising, ever-underdelivering business more than even me.
Just like being in Little Italy? Not so much.
It feels almost as good as going postal, but without the inconvenient prison sentence.
