Never Knowingly Undercooked

I often use to notice that after a heavy drinking session (and sometimes before) the Consul liked to dine on a Poor Man’s Surf and Turf. Sometimes a simple turf and chips was enough, so long as the turf itself was battered. An establishment often frequented by the Drinking Man was a famous Asian fish and chip restaurant at Hyde Park Corner, run by a gnarled old Pakistani gentleman called Jeff. The fare on offer was greasy in the extreme. However, with Jeff’s famous slogan as an endorsement, the Consul could dine safe in the knowledge that, no matter how much his stomach rebelled, the food was ‘Never Knowingly Undercooked.’