"It's f**kin' overpriced that," says the builder leaving German Doner Kebab, followed by four other big lads in hi-vis jackets.
They're carrying takeout bags, and I arrive as they're grumbling their way down Oxford Road at the cost of their lunch.
On the pavement, another lad is bellowing into his phone.
"You've been that German Doner, 'aven't yer?," he shouts.
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"Should I go there, or KFC?"
KFC is next door. He must have got the thumbs up, because he follows me in.
This is the second branch of German Doner Kebab in Manchester, the first appearing without much fanfare in Fallowfield, on the site of the old Revolution bar, over the summer. (There are two others in Greater Manchester - in Oldham and Stockport.)
The publicist for the chain describes the chain's expansion as 'aggressive', which, when you consider that in 2014 there were no branches of German Doner Kebab in the UK and only seven by 2017, is a bit of an understatement.
Now there are 85. Yes, 85, in less than five years.
There are only 90 worldwide, so it's clear they're really gunning to exploit the Brit's long-lasting love affair with the 'bab.
But it's not the first outfit hoping to level-up the doner. There's also Bab off Stevenson Square, which landed in 2018, and more recently Döner Haus at the Corn Exchange.
Meanwhile, over at Escape To Freight Island, Michelin-starred chef Brad Carter introduced his 'One Star Doner Bar' at the end of the summer, after memorable experiences on Berlin's street food scene, though his take is a more 'elevation' of the art form, with doners made from, among other things, Italian mortadella sausage.
They're superb, but as a high street offering, German Doner Kebab is not really competing in quite the same market.
And as it goes, it's not that expensive (sorry lads).
Yes, compared to McDonald's or the chippy, perhaps. Or at a push, any other street corner kebab shop.
But not considering the premium now increasingly deemed acceptable for fast food imports, as per, say, Five Guys or new US chicken spot Wing Stop. A meal at either of those will cost you well in excess of £10, and likely nearer £15 with any extras.
A meal deal here is £8.99, and for that you get a kebab (I go for a mix of chicken and beef), a choice of fries (plain, spicy, or dusted in German style curry seasoning), and a drink.
A large doner, chips and a drink at any late-night kebab van would surely cost you the same.
I'm given a buzzing alarm thing, and instructed to sit upstairs, where my order will be brought to me (perhaps because it's a Wednesday afternoon, and not very busy).
As such, the service is truly impeccable. There is a glut of hovering, masked staff, wiping down everything in view every few minutes.
It's fastidiously clean.
As sandwiches go, the standard doner is comically, ridiculously overstuffed. Shaggy and Scooby Doo would break into a light meat sweat at the sight of it.
The giant Turkish style pita, covered in black and yellow sesame seeds, is toasted and yawning open, jammed full of meat, salad and slathered generously in yoghurt sauce.
It's roll-your-eyes-over good, and the amount of salad involved goes some distance to making you think it's probably healthy too. Yep, very healthy indeed. No doubt about it.
The fries are totally decent, flanked with three sauces – two yoghurt type things, one more garlicky than the other, and a fruitier orange type thing. They can also come squirted with liquid cheese and jalapenos, should that be your thing.
Elsewhere, there's a lahmacun, the Turkish 'pizza', which also comes as a wrap, and the Doner 'Krunch' burger, which comes stuffed with doner meat and Doritos, which simply can't be a good thing. Nevertheless.
Mid-mouthful, I'm approached and asked how my meal is going. It's going great, I say, but pre-packaged handwipe notwithstanding, this is not a two napkin sandwich, as provided. It's a six, seven, eight napkin affair. She zips off and gets more, and brings them back. I must look a sight.
Once I'm done, and feeling as stuffed as the pita which landed on the table a shamefully short amount of time ago, I attempt to take my own tray to the recycling station, but I'm only half way of the 10 feet distance towards it before it's taken out of my hand. 'No, no, I'll take it,' says the server, as if I really should be putting my feet up. Places charging five, 10 times this price could learn a thing or two about service here. Send your front-of-house in for a refresher course.
But from one-star iterations of the art form to this new high street staple, if this is the rebirth of the 'bab, sign me up. And quickly.
