Punk Royale, London W1: ‘Someone shoved mystery slop in my mouth’

Punk Royale , from Stockholm, has landed in London promising, or rather threatening, that their rowdy, immersive, 20-course fine-dining experience will destroy all puny British perceptions of posh food. It’s a huge claim from these Swedish punks. Indeed, nearly 50 years after the UK invented punk, with the Sex Pistols effing and jeffing on live TV and provoking a national meltdown, here we have some folk with mullets and Roxette CDs slopping “bumps” of caviar on to my hand shortly after beckoning me into a shoddily decorated, fusty-smelling dining room in Mayfair. It’s all a bit student house and needs a good visit from Mr Sheen. That bump, one supposes, is a playful twist on taking cocaine at a grotty afterparty. However, none of the jokes at Punk Royale is really playful: rather, they