Saturday night at the Golden Grill

On Saturday night we took a stroll through Camberwell Green in all it’s post-midnight glory.

We’d been out in Waterloo to see some friends off on a long trip; drinks were at the Arch One Bar & Grill, a cavernous space dominated by an enormous TV screen. Table service from a charming waitress, Caipirinhas £7 each. £7! For rum, lime and sugar! I didn’t have one, I just noticed the price.

1.30am and we were walking through the Green in pursuit of a late night treat: a chicken kebab from the Golden Grill. They’ve been open since 1979 and are very proud of it, displaying the date on their blue uniforms. I think they show fantastic patience to cope with the demands of their core clientele, the drinkers of the Silver Buckle next door.

Kebab in hand, we stopped at one of the multitude of off-licences further down Camberwell Church Street for a drink worthy of accompanying the food. One of the owners, an elderly Asian man, was laughingly fending off the agressive, insistent statements of a customer who was claiming he had seen the man’s wife dancing naked.

Back on the road to home, past the Funky Munky which was it’s usual twitchy, noisy self, we had to quickly cross over to avoid a group of five men who were rolling around on the floor and trading punches. After we’d skirted them I looked back and they were laughing together, with their arms around each other as they headed Buckle-wards.

We got home and opened our meals; the ‘small’ kebab could have fed the 5,000, it was so big. That’s why the Golden Grill have been around since 1979.

The next morning I went to buy some orange juice and I was confronted with this:

You have been warned

I think it’s a little unfair.

Author: Peter

Long-time resident of Camberwell, author of this blog since July 2004.

63 thoughts on “Saturday night at the Golden Grill”

  1. Golden Grill is the best Kebab house in the world.

    I took my Dad there and they treated him as well as if he had been Ataturk himself.

  2. The Golden grill is great! They seel enormous and very nice portions of falafel in pitta — just the ticket when returning home dunk and hungry.

  3. Ah yes. I’ve not tried the chicken, but many a time twixt public house and bus stop have I stepped inside and ordered myself one of their tasty Kofte kebabs. Great beer-food.

  4. Looks like that disused alley by Somerfield small (as opposed to Somerfield sh***e).

    Need to get councils and businesses talking about why councils overcharge and why businesses don’t take enough care of their environ (clue — they are being charged more than residents for identical services).

  5. we actually get services in southwark?? where do they hide them?

    nice to see the thick n crusty poo has been cleaned from the public loo on the green. although the only reason i know that is that the door’s still wide open. syringe seems to have replaced turd. it’s a fair swap guv.

  6. I used to be a fan of the Golden Grill but The Good Husband has fallen out with them after they ignored him & took orders off all their mates as they rolled in one night.

    Admittedly this was over Christmas & the good husband had been partaking of the festive spirit- which may well have influenced his opinion of the chaps.

  7. Speaking of poo – the four-legged kind – it’s disappointing that so many dog owners allow their canine friends to sh*t all over the pavement (I am thinking particularly of Camberwell Grove and the through passage to the park behind the church). It’s almost like the offending dog owner/s have their animal on a tight leash and are dragging the poor dog/s along as they are trying to go, probably surreptitiously scanning the area to see if anyone has noticed. It means you have to keep your eyes on the pavement at all times unless you want your shoes ruined. Although it’s good to see that Southwark has a ‘flag the poo’ campaign (see link), but for now, I have noticed that I still have to keep my head to the ground.

  8. How about Southwark scientists extracting doggy dna on each occasion, and operating a policy of strict liability against the owners?

  9. Good point… I might get poo in my hair! Eyes closely monitoring the pavement would be a better option.

  10. There should be no dogs allowed inside the M25.

    They are little more that child mawling sh:t factories.

  11. By contrast, “The human being is a being that, in being, is concerned about his being,” according to Heidegger. Jung thought this kind of philosophy was “a pisspot of unconscious devils” and that Heidegger was “fit to burst with presumption and vanity.”

    The book on Heidegger I found where the man gave me his trousers continues to offer some interest on a dull and damp day in Camberwell, when even the Dark Horse has an improvised sign on the door saying something like “We are open — please pull the door and come in.”

    I see The Bolu was “Established 1975” beating the Golden Grill by 4 years.

  12. Whilst on the subject of poo and kebabs, I must confess to cycling home in the pouring rain drunk a few years ago after being out til midnight, following through and pooing behind the phonebox outside Redstar. I wiped my behind on a discarded umbrella and then went to Bolu’s to clean up and get a good ole Chicken Shish before bed. Thus combining both kebab and poo topics in one short anecdote.

  13. Dagmar: I feel I need to know more about this man giving you his trousers. Was there any discourse immediately preceding the event? Was he trouser-less at the time?

    bukowski333: well yuck, but *midnight*, that’s not very late really — a weak constitution, on both fronts, so to speak?

  14. Hilariousness.

    A friend in ‘Imperial Gardens’, when it first opened had a glorious night. He was searched at the door and had his drugs removed from his trainer. The same drugs were sold back to him by a ‘security’ guard once inside. He went to the loo and leant on the wall whilst peeing. He came out into the club room and discovered a long strak of white paint up his arm, from the freshly painted wall he leaned on not yet having dried. Having danced for a couple of hours he returned to the toilet for a crap. Having done his business he discovered there was no paper. Undeterred, and being a resourceful chap, he took off the sock that had contained his drugs, wiped, and flushed it down the pan.

    He now lives in Lima.

  15. ahhh poo stories!
    myself and mr bukowski333 were enjoying a lovely summer’s afternoon skateboarding at the Kennington Park bowl, a couple of years ago when we saw a fairly sketchy looking chap hanging around in the, very thin, “cover” of the trees. Sure enough he whipped down his kecks and started ‘his business’.
    bukowski333 also spotted him, and it wasn’t long before a rousing chorus of “HAVE A SHIT MATE!” was echoing the park. great days.

  16. A few years back when Ms Standing and I lived in Oval we were shocked by the constant signs on the gates Kennington Park warning about human faeces and asking for people to report the offenders. Needless to say great care was taken before lying down to sunbath…

  17. Oh gosh, I’m not sure I should be telling this… when I worked at Southwark Council, I once had a bad case of the runs. I was in the office and suddenly had a bad feeling, so ran to the toilet — too late. I’d filled my underpants. I took them off and cleaned myself up, but I didn’t want to leave them in the bin because of the smell; so I threw them out of the window.

    I worked on the fourth floor, and they landed on the side of the roof opposite — in clear view of all the offices on one side. I could see them every time I went into those offices.

  18. Tough call but I ‘d say Peter wins ‘Scatman of the Year’ because he’s not blogging anonymously.

  19. The day my partner put the flat on the market, I was still smoking, and first thing in the morning coughed a right retch of a cough, and being naked in the kitchen, a poo shot out of me the size and shape of a dark brown rat and landed splat on the wooden floor. I discreetly disposed of it, of course. This was not an installation or intervention I was going to boast about just yet. But I was secretly pleased at this down-to-earth comment on progress, that issued not so much from my bumhole as my subconscious. Heidegger would have been proud of me.

  20. Remember Lisa Stansfield, the popstrel who sang “Been around the world tonight but I can’t find my baby…”? Well, I heard on good authority from someone who knows her that lovely Lisa defecates into a freezer bag, pops it in the freezer til rigid, then uses her own faeces as a dildo.

    That’s my favourite scat story ever.

  21. That’s weird; and also possibly libellous (or is it defamatory?).

    I once heard that Lisa Stansfield was allergic to her own saliva.

  22. Hogan’s Ghost! I have been appalled and made slightly nauseous by some of these posts. They detail coprophilic activities above and beyond anything I experienced at Sandhurst, or during my incarceration in Barlinnie for that matter. I feel both disturbed and queerly aroused.

    Speaking of feeling queerly aroused, who is this Stansfield hussy and does anyone have a contact number for her?

  23. Here’s hoping the Standard story doesn’t link to the potty-related threads on here — what will they think of the neighbourhood.

    Were any of you at some sort of meeting in the Cadleigh on Monday night…?

  24. Here’s hoping the Standard story doesn’t link to the potty-related threads on here — what will they think of the neighbourhood.

    Were any of you at some sort of meeting in the Cadleigh on Monday night…?

  25. It’s a bit late but I had a close friend who always said “when it comes to the bedroom anything goes but I draw the line at eating my own shite”.

    He’s now an oral and maxillofacial surgeon. In another part of the country. Not sure his profession related to his oral predilections.

  26. #Sigh# We’ve talked about food on this blog for so long, it’s almost inevitable that we’re now talking about what it leads to.

    The circle of life is beautiful. Just beautiful.

  27. Totally off topic but — Does anyone know what the expansion plans of Sainsburys in Dog Kennel Hill are?

    I was absolutely devastated to see the only decent coffee place in all of Camberwell had shut down for 6 months. No more Starbucks unless I go into work — still, added motivation, I guess, for putting in an appearance rather than working from home.

  28. sg — see the thread on sustainable communities at Following a recent review, the Government might be about to make it easier for “out of town centre” supermarkets to get built or expand.

    And Dog Kennel Hill is probably categorised that way, as its car park is almost always packed, unlike that of Old Kent’s Tesco.

    I wonder whether I am the only one who believes the best coffees in town are served by quality independents if you are lucky enough to find them.

  29. I agree regeneguru. I’m not a fan of Starbuck’s coffee, it always seems a bit too milky and bland to me. The coffee at Chave De Douro is very good, however.

    And who wants to sit in a supermarket, sipping coffee and gazing out over a car park?

  30. A colloquy on coffee? Is this the CamberwellOnline Blog or the DulwichOnline Blog?

    Speaking of Dulwich, I had a lovely meal tonight in Franklin’s with an ageing floosie of my acquaintance. Apparently there is now a Franklin’s in Kennington also. All we need is one in the middle.

    On the way up there I noticed a police van the size of a mobile home stationed outside the Silver Buckle. It was still there on my return. Are the filth taking preemptive measures now in the war against binge-drinking and antisocial behaviour, I ask myself?

  31. Starbucks is a scam — They choose the cheapest grade of coffee availiable (ie: the stuff that used to get rejected as not good enough for human consumption in halycon days) — So for a start it takes like crap anyway, then the crap barista incinerates the life out of it,then they put some syrup in it (ie:orange cordial and call it a Valencia) then they put it in a 1 litre cup!!! — where do they think I’m going to put all that? I’m not a bloody donkey — Typical American shite that gets embraced as the golden rule by the pig-shit ignorant 60% who don’t think or question anything…

  32. eusebiovic — I’m not a shareholder, I don’t work for them, I simply like the taste of their coffee, so sue me. You think it tastes like crap, well I probably don’t like the taste of half the stuff you eat but that’s neither here nor there.

    Don’t ask for syrup, and ask for a tall rather than venti — simple.

    And I like the convenience of having a coffee before I do my weekly shopping. So sue me again.

    I take offence at your suggestion that I might be ignorant simply because I like their coffee. I can assure you that I’m not.

  33. Did you frequent Franklin’s when it was in Camberwell, Lord H, or were you still in Surabaya? The real Franklin’s was here a long time ago, when wine had just been introduced in this country in large enough quantity and you could take your own there and sit in the back yard surrounded by antiquities.

  34. Is that where it originated? Well blow me down!

    I had the saddleback belly. And I’m not referring to Lady H.

  35. Franklins was primarily a big antique shop on the Camberwell Road near the Gentlemen’s Traditional shoe shop which is still there. You could be dining on the vast Georgian patio right next to a large bust.

  36. Benjamin Franklin, bored with enforcing the right angle between Colorado and Nebraska, uncertain of a writing style to compete with the educated folk wisdom of Thoreau, or a place amongst the American humorist tradition which would lead exorably to Artemus Ward, and disillusioned with the already-apparent imperialist notions of the ‘States, even in its birth pangs, decided to turn to Camberwell.

    Like-minded fellow social revolutionaries joined him. All were disappointed with the descendants of Sir Edmund Bowyer, who took the Wyndham coin and gave up his name as well as half a bed for a dowry. They spread the nasty rumour amongst peasants that the Boywer coat of arms was bend sinister, not dexter, an aspersion on the sanctity of his noble lineage.

    Bowyer Bastard, went the chant.

    It was the Franklin Forum.

    Soon, however, as with so many Camberwell revolutionary groups, they began discussing culinary matters, leading to the great debate as to whether Old Lady Bradshaw’s chocolates were flavoured with red or green cardamon. This sponsored a mass riot and hanging on the very site at which the Silver Buckle now stands.

    As their impact on 18th Century social policy was minimal, Franklin decided to set up a restaurant instead. He then returned to America, and the rest is history, whereas this is apocryphal.

  37. Wouldn’t it be great though, sg, if you could have a great-tasting pre-shop coffee that was made by an independent local trader, instead of a soulless global corporation that is intent solely on opening 40,000 identical outlets worldwide in the next few years?

Comments are closed.