Ready-made chain feels like a cynical cash grab

I didn't see this one coming.

- Josephine

Claude Bosi? New Parisian bistro? Close to home? No point in reviewing: five stars, goldplated and spit-shined. Surely? Surely. And the thing is, stringing together 700-odd words of unadulterated praise gets tiring after a while; it's a bit like grinning for a photo while your darling Ma fumbles with her iPhone. So I went in as a punter, off the clock with Bosi sweetly sending over two flutes of Champagne, which I did not turn away (come on, would you?) - expecting a night of near lascivious indulgence. Treat me like a barrel, I told Twiggy, fill me to the brim and roll me home.

But then the thing started happening -the going wrong thing- and I found myself reluctantly on duty, shelling out £200 and scribbling notes, not roaring with rage but sighing and shrugging and feeling faintly bewildered where I should have been bewitched. Bosi is better than this. I know he is.