The entrance is impressive: an arched corner with a green canopy and a man in a bowler hat. Once inside, you’re immediately greeted by a colourful bar and banquette seating which is a promising, warm and welcoming start. Which is why the restaurant disappoints even more. 

Through a short tunnel, you arrive in a place of dark brown panelling, cheap wobbly tables and uncomfortable chairs; a room with all the charm of a bailiff’s storage facility. Plastic flowers drip from the ceiling, more clumsy than colourful, and the staff rush around in a spirit that is more like crossing a busy road in Hanoi than the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. 

The menu is what my geography teacher at school would call ‘sizeable’, that is: vast. There are: small plates (by which I think they mean starters), seafood, veg, meat, game and poultry, tandoori grill, meat thali, sides, biryani and bread as well as the offer of ‘classic curries made on request’.