but you got to find new and dangerous way of getting there.

I wish I could say it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Jones,

but I'm happy where I am. Good luck.

Adam Jones. My God.

One hoped you were dead.

Closed down any, uh, good restaurants lately?

I don't close good restaurants.

My reviews close bad ones.

I need you to help me kick this arrogant city's ass.

I'm back, and I'm gonna cook like we did in the old days,

before we started warming up fish in little plastic bags.

You know, when I lie awake at night and list my regrets...

...you're one of them.

I say to myself, "Simone, you're a lesbian.

Why did you sleep with Adam Jones?"

[chuckles]

- Simone Forth is here. - Sorry, who?

"Who?" The restaurant critic of the fucking Evening Standard.

It's dry! The grouse is dry and the sauce tastes like...

- [cutlery clattering] - Everything is fucked!