The Horrible Puns of London’s Rat Café

rat-cafe

Enjoy tea and cake while sitting next to the tanks that hold the catacombs’ 18-strong rodent population.

Then, once you’ve chowed down, wash your hands (you don’t want sharp-toothed rodents mistaking your hands for food, after all) and the resident rat carers will bring the little critters over for you to play with.

To drink, there are cups of “rattaccino” or “ratte”. To eat: “black forest rateaux”, plus there’s also the chance to indulge in (wait for it) “car-rat cake”.

Looks like it might have been a one-time thing, unfortunately.

The London Dungeon via Now. Here. This.

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I design video games for a living, write fiction, political theory and poetry for personal amusement, and train regularly in Western European 16th century swordwork. On frequent occasion I have been known to hunt for and explore abandoned graveyards, train tunnels and other interesting places wherever I may find them, but there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that I am preparing to set off a zombie apocalypse. Nothing that will stand up in court, at least. I use paranthesis with distressing frequency, have a deep passion for history, anthropology and sociological theory, and really, really, really hate mayonnaise. But I wash my hands after the writing. Promise.

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