Year of Eating Differently (75): Anonymous Cafe, corner of Frith & Old Compton Street

Pretty awful really. I'd wandered into Bar Italia only to find that their ready-made sandwiches all included meat, so I went three doors down to this place on the corner of Old Compton Street.
Inside, there was a man loudly complaining that he'd been served a large latte rather than a small one, and that he came there every day and never ordered a large one. Well, I thought, you clearly can't have that good a relationship with her if she doesn't remember what you like. Or maybe he was just cross.
However, the woman behind the bar seemed to be functionally deaf (it should really take less than 3 attempts to order a brie sandwich) and then also incapable of proper speech (3.75 is pronounced 'three seventy-five' and not 'two seventy-five', fact fans). The sandwich took an age to arrive, and was only about the size of one and a half slices of bread, so hardly good value.
Part way through its construction, some beggar wandered in to complain about having bronchitis, and being paranoid about catching illnesses this January, I got even more perturbed. However, she got a drink and then went over the road to hassle the customers in Cafe Nero for money, which possibly implies that in the anonymous cafe you're protected under the auspices of their establishment. Or something.
Anyway, rubbish sandwich (filling thermonuclear hot, outside freezing cold) and I had to go via Bateman's on the way back (where the woman looks very angry that you've come into her shop, but is at least half-way competent) to buy some crisps in order to not fall asleep with hunger this afternoon.