I'm very glad the 80s habit of giving everything a French name is over. Yes, I know, food is a passion over there, but it sounds so incredibly pretentious.

I like my hachis parmentier as much as my boeuf roti a l'anglaise, will happily have my saucisses a la puree de pommes avec son jus for lunch. Maybe my tartine au saumon fume can be enhanced by the snacks of croustillant au chocolat and meule au coco. I don't know.

I still don't know what's worse, though, that or the recent M&S-style phenomenon of over-adjectivising everything. Is the French menu better, or maybe an organic maris piper topped ground Leicester longwool lamb gratinée, a gently oven-roasted topside of Lincolnshire longhorn, three-spiced pan-fried single-farm hand-made cumberland sausaged on crushed root vegetable medley, a loch muir organic smoked salmon sandwich on hand-cut local multiseed bread, followed by Venezuelan single bean chocolate bitesize corn squares or Boholese fairtrade coconut stacked in the style of a South Suffolk haystack.

Only time will tell.