Happy Days Takeaway

It's December 2002. The time is 1am. There's a chill in the air outside. I'm sitting in my friend Phil's student flat in Owens park. We've just come back from a student night on Deansgate Locks at a bar called "Loaf" (now Revolution)We've completely lost track of time, he's been explaining in detail track by track why Ginuwine's 1996 'The Bachelor' album is a work of genius. He's convinced me. "Damn didn't realize the time, you fancy a Happy Days Pizza? They're divine."
And so, along with my newly confirmed love of 90's R&B music, my long and fruitful relationship with Happy Days Pizzas began.

Phil now owns and runs a bar in Barcelona and in a recent random facebook conversation brought up Happy days as we reminisced the good old days. It didn't take long to work out that it wasn't just a post night out ethanol fueled stupor that made the Pizza de-eeee-licious. They genuinely were incredible even in a sober stupor.

Despite being in a student area and prices reflecting the demographic there is absolutely no compromise on quality of the Pizza. Having said that on Mondays it's difficult to complain when you can get 3 twelve inch Pizzas for £14.

In recent times La Rosa has come to the fore when it comes to my Pizza orientation. But Happy days does and will always have a special place.

Dear Happy Days

Three weeks ago I was strong-armed into coming to frozen Fallowfield for a drink, when all I wanted to do was stay indoors, in my dressing gown, watching Living TV (there was a Ghost Whisperer marathon on, I'm sure you understand). I'm not gonna lie to you, Happy Days, I was not looking forward to this visit.

The visit was made even less appetising by the fact that we were forced by Trof's closure into drinking at the Cheshire Cat, which I am sure, Happy Days, you know all about. That's right, it's not the best place. Anyway, I had a little too much to drink, I'm not too proud to admit, and then when closing time came, we wended our way to Vodka Revs where I ravenously eyed the cupcakes but was told I was not allowed one (probably because I had run out of money, had just called the boyf a tit and then fell over). Sulking proved futile so I hatched a plan. Once we were kicked out of Vodka Revs, and Medic Friend was unexpectedly ambushed by some nasty boys who hit him in the arm, I had made up my mind. I strode confidently, purposefully, wonkily, to you, Happy Days.

Once inside, the boyf and I were greeted by friendly faces, the faces of the happy Happy Days team. We were positively alight with joy when we heard the stereo blasting out Bonnie Tyler (the boyf, however, refused to dance) and we ordered chips. Oh, Happy Days, your chips are lovely! And mango chutney too! And those weird green pickled jalapenos! What a feast, for only £1.50!

Unfortunately I fell asleep in the taxi home, awaking to find the boyf had eaten them all. Still, the few I managed were lovely. Thank you, Happy Days, for not minding that I don't know all the words to Total Eclipse of the Heart, and for giving me a free can of coke and a Vimto lolly because I complimented your sign. You're lovely, Happy Days. I like you.

Love, B xxx

I feel a third review is just about needed here simply in order to state, contrary to the suggestion of a previous counter-argument, that Rob has, in his review of Happy Days, taken up the hammer, and struck the nail firmly and squarely on its head. If only the nail were the final one in the Happy Days coffin, we'd all be saved another average experience.

Two stars is generous but just about right, simply because you need to consider how easily pleasing a big greasy snack is when you make the purchase (after a beer). Many a time do I remember thinking I was filling my face with 5-star kebab or pizza. So with that in mind, two stars is really and rightly very low.

Average after a few drinks, I dread to think what it would be like under normal conditions (20-25ºC, Ph 7).

Avoid this takeaway. Although it's situated in a prime location opposite Orange Grove in Fallowfield and thus in a great position to attract many a hungry, drunk student, the food here had a bit of astrange taste to it, to say the least. It was the dough that put me off really; it had a very strange smell to it, kind of yeasty but not in the good way you associate with baking bread. The pizza left a lot to be desired other than this, however, as the cheese was a bit odd and the tomato sauce was just bland.


The guys working here were a bit weird too, don't go in as a single female - a word to the wise! They might think it's just friendly banter, but some of their comments made me slightly uncomfortable.

fuckin' ga!