Eating like it's 1997

A few months ago I recommended a chinese restaurant called 1997 on Wardour Street, London. Well tear up that post and delete it from your memory. I have been back a few times after that post and the service and food has been steadily declining. We've given it more that enough chances (three times we have been back against better judgement) and last Saturday will be the last time I will ever visit.

After waiting 15 minutes for a table, we ordered our food. More than 20 minutes later, and seeing people after us get their food first, one plate arrives. We both ordered the same dish. I tell the waiter. He fucking fobs me off: "yada yada yada it's coming". Nearly 10 minutes later another waiter, asks "Didn't you order two?". I tell him yes, then he finally takes some responsibility and gets the food. Crispy pork and roast duck with rice is not the most difficult dish (chopped meat on a bed of rice), but they still managed to bugger it up. The presentation of the food is atrocious. The rice looked liked it was scooped off the floor and the meat looked like it was hacked by a blind Lizzie Borden, then dumped in a jumbled mess. The rice wasn't hot, not even warm. It would be lucky to be called tepid. The duck was mediocre, and pink and the crispy pork wasn't crispy and fat. The texture of the rice felt like it was rinsed with cold water first. I left the lid off the teapot (it means I want more tea) and after I saw 3 waiters look at it and ignore it, I put the lid back on, deciding I didn't want to stay in this poor excuse for a shithole any longer. Unamazingly they brought the bill over without even asking us in the promptest movement of the night. Without ceremony we handover the money and leave.