When I lived in London there was this little Spanish place literally right next door. They used to do an "Adalucian breakfast" which was really just a full English with a chorizo added, but that chorizo was just oily fatty goodness. You knew you had eaten well because everything had a nice orange tinge to it. Walk in with a hangover walkout cured.

Otherwise good sourdough thick cut, with liberal amounts of butter, and, wait for it, vegemite! That's a proper breakfast.