Simpsons-in-the-Strand, London

Credit is a system whereby a person who cannot pay gets another person who cannot pay to guarantee that he can pay.

Charles Dickens

I wonder if Dickens had good credit at his old haunt, Simpson's-in-the-Strand, 100 Strand, London, Tel +44 20 7836 9112? These days, at around 20-quid-a-head for breakfast, it's certainly the kind of place where you want someone else to pay. But for a great British experience, the Great British breakfast is worth the cash. Or credit. If you can still get it.

Bleeding Heart Tavern, London

There's something a little creepy about eating black pudding in a place called Bleeding Heart Tavern, Bleeding Heart Yard (off Greville Street), London, Tel +44 20 7242 2056. Especially when you hear the urban legend of Lady Elizabeth Hatton being ripped limb from limb by her jilted Spanish lover, leaving her dismembered body in the yard, and her heart pumping blood across the cobblestones. But I was in the mood for a Full English, so there was no dodging the blood sausage.



A very fine Full English it was, too. Both fried and scrambled eggs were good (the latter soft and creamy). Tasty beans and tomatoes. A trio of meats (black pud, suffolk bacon and a fat snag). And a few fresh slices of builder's crack toast.

Curiously, this fine English fry up was produced by a bunch of French people, who now run the tavern. Which means you can also get house-baked croissants, if you prefer less blood and meat with your breakfast. Coffee was OK, but tea always seems a safer bet in London.

Brasserie James, Clapham South

A global financial meltdown is probably not the ideal timing to be opening a mediocre restaurant in London. Which is bad news for Brasserie James, 47 Balham Hill, Clapham South, London, Tel +44 20 8772 0057. Because we are in the middle of a global financial meltdown and, based on their brunch performance, Brasserie James is mediocre.



The croque was average, at best. I like a nice thick croque. This one was model-thin. The eggs benedict was average. I like soft poached eggs. These were so hard we sent them back.

Harvey Nichols, Knightsbridge

Patsy hasn't eaten since 1974 - Eddie

Harvey Nichols, 109-125 Knightsbridge, London, is the kind of place Patsy and Eddie loved to shop, and possibly drink. But it's unlikely Patsy ever ate at the Vth floor cafe, Tel +44 20 7823 1839. Which is a pity. Because the eggs benedict at Harvey Nicks isn't too bad.



Good quality eggs. Nice hollandaise. OK ham and muffins. Even the coffee was drinkable. I'm just sorry I didn't try the "Harvey Nichols Capuccino", which carried a curious warning... "contains nuts".

If, like the fash-mag-slag, you prefer to take your nourishment in the form of boozy beverages, the Vth floor cafe does an interesting range of liquor hot chocolate. Some of these also contain nuts. The Vesuvio, for example, which contains a shot of Amaretto Luxuardo, and only costs 5 quid. Quite a bargain, when you consider that the Bloody Mary will set you back 9.

Canteen, Spitalfields

To eat well in England you should have breakfast three times a day - Somerset Maugham

It's all very well to say that breakfast is the only British food worth eating. But have you ever tried ordering eggs and bacon after 5pm? Fat chance. Unless, of course, you stumble upon Canteen, 2 Crispin Place, Spitalfields. Tel +44 845 686 1122. Day time... night time... it's always brekky time at Canteen.



And not just any brekky. They serve a very fine bubble and squeak, topped with crispy bacon and two fried eggs. The bubble was a nice fat cake of mushy spuds and veggies, presumably leftovers from yesterday's roast.

My main disappointment was the coffee, which was pale and weak and looked disturbingly like a cup of Thames. I did manage to drink it, so I'll give it one point for OK, but I think I'm being generous. It's no wonder people drink Starbucks in this city. Good coffee is about as common as a punctual train.

16/20 "nice bubble"

Fuzzy's Grub, London

Little did I know that, as I tucked into this sausage and egg sarnie from Fuzzy's Grub, on the other side of the world Eddie McGuire was boning himself. Luckily, there were no bones in my bangers. Just meat, and the usual extenders they stuff them with. Tasty.



Ordering at Fuzzy's proved to be something of a challenge. It all started smoothly enough...

Me: "A toasted sausage and egg sandwich on granary, please..."

Fuzzy: "Yes..."

Me: "And some HP sauce..."

Fuzzy: "Sorry?" (confused look)

Me: "Some HP sauce..."

Fuzzy: "Some?" (more confused look)

Me: "H... P... sauce..."

Fuzzy: "H... P...?" (totally confused look)

At this point it occurs to me that this particular Fuzzy's guest-worker has a less-than-perfect grasp of English, and despite the use of "HP sauce" on the menu above her head, is not fully up to speed on her brown sauce brands. So I connect the dots...

Me: "Brown sauce..."

Fuzzy: "Aaaaah... brown sauce... yes!"

And so we were back on track... until further down the production line, when I'm asked if I would like some salt and pepper. At this point I used what I thought was international sign language for "a little bit" and made that gesture where you hold up your index finger very close to your thumb... the kind of gesture that can ruin a man's reputation in the bedroom... you know the one.

Fuzzy then proceeded to drown my sandwich in a blizzard of salt and pepper, before asking me if it was OK. I think she may have seen the look of horror on my face.

Me: "No, it's not OK, but it's too late now, so don't worry about it..."

And that was that. The sandwich was a bit spicy, but otherwise very good. Once you learn to speak Fuzzy's, it's easy to see why people keep coming back for more.

Roast, London

Fancy a fried slice? Get yourself to Roast, The Floral Hall, Stoney Street (above Borough Market), London, Tel +44 20 7940 1300. The "Full Borough" comes with fried sausages, fried bacon, fried black pudding, fried mushrooms (grilled, actually) and... fried bread. You could round this out with fried eggs, but I went scrambled...



All this "deliciously British" food is, according to the Roast spin doctors, designed to show that good old-fashioned British grub is more than a match for the muck they serve across the channel. In reality, the only highlight of the Roast fry-up was the bangers, which were excellent (apparently they source their snags from a guy who was once "sausage-maker to the Queen"). The black pudding wasn't bad either. The rest was nothing special. Sloppy scrambled eggs. Crisp, greasy, fried bread (presumably stale bread). Streaky bacon and some veg.

That Roast is more spin than substance should come as no surprise. The guy who started it was a PR flack before he got into the restaurant game. And spin is one of the defining traits of Blair's Britain. Perhaps substance will make a comeback under Gordon Brown? A splash of Brown sauce certainly adds spice to an otherwise dull breakfast.

Other than the sausages, the best thing about Roast is the venue. It's light, open and airy, with big windows all round. Assuming it's not raining too hard, you can look across the river at the London skyline, or you can look down at Borough Market below.

At £12, the "Full Borough" wasn't cheap. Far better value would be the two boiled eggs with Marmite soldiers, for £3.80. Or maybe the "Tattie scone with smoked streaky bacon, field mushrooms and a fried egg" at a mere £8.50.

12/20 "fried slice"