To Gandhi's, a Bangladeshi restaurant in south London, for luncheon. It's a favoured political hang-out, and advertises this dubious distinction without embarrassment. Various photographs of over-fed beasts are displayed in the window: Jack Straw, John Major, Neil Hamilton – all the greats, except Gandhi himself. The snap of Geoff Hoon, forehead adorned with a bindhi, looks a bit faded. But Hoon's still a regular. Yes, indeed.
Gandhi's is nothing special. But it is proclaimed as one of the 100 top restaurants in Britain, and one of the 15 best in London. Friends in high places, perhaps? After all, loads of MPs live nearby, not least because collective Westminster fantasy dictates that Kennington, south London, is "within the division bell".
Arcane tradition insists that to be "within the division bell" an MP has to be a brisk eight-minute walk from the late-night call to vote. Contemporary interpretation of The Rules suggests that an eight- minute dash in a fast car is enough.
Gandhi's is proud of its reputation as a venue for political intrigue. (I love the way politicians tend to opt for the same old spots when they're up to something – the mindset is so wonderfully childish and moronic.) But there is not much appetite for such machinations today, as I am the only customer, until two beaten-looking blokes wander in, complaining fulsomely about the recession.
What to order? I hesitate over the special for two, £32. Was this what Geoff Hoon ordered the other night to share with Patricia Hewitt as they formulated their brilliant plan to "clear the air" around Gordon Brown? How they must wish they opted for the takeaway, with its 10% off. But the special for two is extravagant and sorely lacking in the puerile humour that is so vital in comedy menu-selection. So, murg chat for me, then mutter panir. The first dish is unsubtle, the second banal. Bingo. Just like Geoff and Pat's winning combo. Indifferent food, delicious irony.
What now? Perhaps a coffee? Espresso? Filter? No. Gandhi's offers only Nescafé. I am almost impressed by the stalwart refusal to nod even curtly at Britain's post-80s revolution in culinary expectations. Granita's, in Islington, was famously the trendy, forward-looking eaterie in which Blair and Mandelson told Brown he would have to make do with the side dish in the run-up to the 1997 election. But it closed down, ages ago. Brown was never a Granita man anyway, although Gandhi's website quotes him as praising its "excellent service and hospitality". The prime minister, for once, may be willing to admit he has changed his view.
