Breakfast is obviously the most important meal of the day, so it makes sense that The Breakfast Club is the most important place in London.* It is amazing. If I had to eat somewhere for the rest of my life, it would be here (although I would probably die early of morbid obesity).
Yes, this is an obscenely large tangle of crispy bacon, dusted in icing sugar, perched on three fluffy pancakes, drenched in maple syrup, and served with a bottle of more maple syrup.
It is heaven on a plate.
I am a creature of habit, so once I discover something totally delicious on a menu, my rationale is that I HAVE to have the same thing next time I go there, because otherwise I might choose something inferior and be disappointed, and have food envy of the people I am with who undoubtedly got the thing I was going to get but didn't. It is a veritable predicament.
However, I have managed to branch out because the menu is so tempting (and I have nibbled from the plates of my unsuspecting brunch-dates) - and I can honestly say that it is always delicious.
Look out for the sunshine-yellow shopfront off Wardour Street, and the queue of hungry people outside. You can't book, and it's always busy, but that never stops people (i.e. me)... I tend to go at odd post-lunch, pre-supper times where I can just waltz in and stuff my face. You will leave feeling full, warm, and happy.
*It probably isn't, but it should be.