I am a cup of coffee from Pret A Manger. They do not own me.

Joined September 2012
Photos and videos
Today, I am a strong skinny cappuccino from Cheshire Oaks. I taste like the physical impossibility of death in the mind of someone living.
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Today, I am a skinny white filter from Kentish Town. I taste like rental shoes.
Today, I am a regular latte from Russell Square. I taste like a sneeze.
Today, I am a filter with skimmed milk from Embankment. I taste like discount ham in a dead pensioner's fridge.
Today I am a black filter from Clapham Junction. I taste like the liquid that gathers in the lost property box of a municipal swimming pool.
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Today, I am a flat white from Chislehurst. I taste like the underside of a dalmatian.
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Today I am a double espresso from Cannon Street. I taste like a geography teacher's breath.
Today, I am a regular latte from Queen Street, Glasgow. I taste like last week's swimming costume you forgot to take out of the bag.
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Today I am a regular mocha from London Bridge. I taste like the attitude of staff in independent record shops.
Today I am a single espresso from Waterloo. I taste like Silvio Berlusconi's second-favourite aftershave.
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Today I am a filter with skimmed milk from St James's Park. I taste like a flood damage at a crematorium.
Today I am a flat white from Wandsworth Road. I taste like forgotten Tupperware.
Today I am a regular cappuccino from Paddington. I taste like the stockroom of an unprofitable branch of Games Workshop.
Today, I am a double espresso from Euston. I taste like standing downwind of the Battersea Dogs' Home incinerator.
Today, I am a double espresso from Chancery Lane. I taste like a badly foxed library edition of Jilly Cooper's Animals in War.
Today, I am a flat white from Infinitus Plaza, HK. I taste like the atmosphere in a high-security prison.
Today, I am a Ceylon breakfast tea with two sugars from Liverpool Street. I'm no better, to be honest.
Today, I am a strong skinny latte from Borough. I taste like night bus.
Today, I am a white Americano from Princes Street (Jenners end), Edinburgh. I taste like stewed handbag sediment.
Today, I am a single espresso from Hammersmith. I taste like the air in a Britsh Rail designated smoking room on a rainy day in August 1978.