Alex Webber's Column

Alex is editor of the In Your Pocket guides in Poland and has written for The Guardian, The Times and The Observer.

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Previous Columns

Trains & Thuggery
2010-09-13

AbraKebabra
2010-08-27

Zamosc Revisited
2010-08-20

A weekend in Praga
2010-07-23

Bolly-what in Gdynia
2010-07-16

Warsaw's Commie Side
2010-07-04

World Cup Arrives
2010-06-18

Contain yourself, Webber
2010-06-11

A Trip to Treblinka
2010-06-04

On Wilcza
2010-05-21

Sporting Failure
2010-05-17

A sad day in Warsaw
2010-04-27

Katyn
2010-04-16

All Hail the April Fool
2010-04-09

A New Leaf Turns
2010-04-01

A Warsaw Tortilla Fetish
2010-03-26

A Tex-Mex Hex
2010-03-19

Onto Czersk
2010-03-05

Woe unto thee, trains of Polska
2010-02-26

Beware the Ice
2010-02-19

A Letter from Torun
2010-02-05

TGI Friday
2010-01-29

Triumph & Disaster
2010-01-22

Of Doom & Despair
2010-01-15

Poland Does Chips
2010-01-08

2009 Wrapped Up
2009-12-19

Lodz, Lodz, Lodz
2009-12-14

Czech Check
2009-12-04

Death Row Meal
2009-11-20

Going out in Style

Wednesday 29th September, 2010

Good news men, King Ding here caught a right raven haired hottie last night, and is still busy peeling off those warm, fuzzy feelings that come after a night of hitting gold. Now, I’ve got to confess, over the last decade I’ve acquired something of a reputation as a ‘woman catcher’, and it’s a justly deserved title. ‘How do you do it Webber?’ That’s a question that gets an airing whenever I step foot in the pub, and I think it’s high time I revealed the secret to my success. I’m no oil painting – where once I was once called ‘a fat Hugh Grant’ , today I’m just called fat. Still, I get the ladies, and that’s for reasons that go beyond that great big inheritance that awaits me in Zurich.

So, listen up boys. Firstly, never under estimate the power of some sharp clothing from Lacoste. Link that up with a vat of aftershave and you’re already pinging the back of the net. To look like a loveable eccentric try the mismatching sock look, and don’t forget an array of cheeky animal impressions. However, to really give yourself a chance you need to pick a bloody good restaurant – the sort of gaff that gets them doing a Meg Ryan at the table.

That’s tricky in Poland, but I found just such a place last night. It’s called Delizia, and you’ll find it on the corner of Poznanska and Hoza. I went there with Porn Babe last night on account of a tip-off from The Boy, and I’m taking a brief break from a horizontal jog to tell you to go there. The place is brilliant, possibly the best Italian I’ve had in Warsaw. Run by two blokes from Turin (maybe), it’s an experience from start to finish. The waiter, Luca, is a born showman, and his attention and banter weren’t lost on this randy couple – for a moment I thought she was going to suggest a threesome.

Anyway, back to the food, and that wasn’t lost on us either – brilliant, in fact. The menu is tiny, but what it lacks in size it compensates with style. No idea what Triple XXX had, I was too busy ordering gazpacho and murdering my steak; I must have looked like a bloodhound, slavering over a piece of meat that was just too good for words. Dunno the total damage, certainly not cheap, but I really don’t care; Delizia is fantastic, and definitely an early nomination for meal of the year.

You’ll certainly see me there, but you won’t see me here. Not anymore, anyhow – I’m leaving this hallowed journal to focus on my forthcoming masterpiece. But cry not, the Cult of Webber lives on, and you’ll be able to follow the misfortunes of Poland’s finest mind on Facebook; just search for The Dilettante and become my fan. Cheerio people.