That this place has the audacity to call itself the Drones beggars belief. There was no bread roll throwing, no Tuppy Glossop, just an average non-descript posh restaurant. But what really gets me is that I feel for it, like a rank amateur. They lured me in with a special voucher in the Evening Standard, only for me to find out it only saved £3 off the very limited ‘special’ menu. And due to this limited menu I ended up having Calves Liver, which Debbie says could only have been human liver at that size, which gave me food poisoning. Add in lack of no-smoking areas, bizarre bench-like side by side seating arrangements, no real atmosphere, immense drinks bill and the uneasiness about etiquette I always get at vaguely posh restaurants and it all adds up to a disappointing evening. PG Wodehouse would be crying into his monocle if he saw it. Poor PG.