An Ode to Wok-A-Moley
Isn’t it about time the Taj Mahal of Bradbury Place finally got the recognition it deserved?
How many times have you succumbed to the late night munchies and been drawn by the lure of Wok-A-Moley?
I’ve been drawn in more times than I’d like to admit. But there’s something insatiable about a big box filled with salt and chilli chicken, rice and curry sauce, and it’s impossible to look past Wok-A when you’re craving curry sauce.
Situated in an ideal position for a drunken stumble home, whether you were out in Limelight, Filthy’s, alibi, Foundry, Fly, Benedict’s or Lavery’s, you’ll be within sniffing distance of that curry sauce.
When you first walk in, you’re greeted by the colourful murals on the wall. What the murals are? I’m not sure. Why they’re there? I don’t know. But without a doubt, they’re not the most colourful thing you’ll see there: the clientele are. From witnessing an argument over whether somebody was dressed as a nurse or a tampon at Halloween, to hearing the Wolfe Tones being blasted on the sound system, these are only a few small examples of the weird and wonderful mysteries that have gone on behind those green doors.
Wok-A-Moley has, especially of late, garnered a reputation as a hedonistic spot for after parties akin to those in Trainspotting. Perhaps it would be better to skip the club part of your night out, and pre-drink, jump in a taxi and just head straight to Wok-A-Moley.
Wok-A-Moley uploaded a video of recent shenanigans on their Facebook page, which can be seen here. The late night carnage has cemented Wok-A’s position in our hearts, because nowhere else in the world would tolerate such behaviour in their establishment, never mind celebrate it.
Although Wok-A do deliver, I think the above is a perfect reason to go in person.
To end, I just want to say, never change Wok-A-Moley, never change.