If aliens landed tonight, how would we show them a good time?

If we could persuade them that our planet wasn’t quite such a mess it appears to be when examined from afar, we’d take them out for a bite to eat. And no matter what corner of earth we lived on, we’d all head for an unknown little pizza joint in North London with the same name as a god, and a rocket.

Apollo does what F Scott Fitzgerald said is the sign of a first rate intelligence: to hold opposing views simultaneously and still function.  Yes, Apollo appears to be both 373 years old and deliciously temporary, a one-night only sour-dough-supper like nonna used to bake. Yes yeast, you really know how to make a human happy. Never has a tomato and garlic base ever thumped so many buds so hard for so long with so much love.

The music behaved like a wayward father coming home stoned and slinging on his vinyl from the days before he settled down and made mum pregnant. Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen may be cheesy on the radio, but here, now, with a needle gathering fluff, it makes you want to holler in between mouthfuls of oohmmyeah.

So starve yourself, head for 160 Stokey High Street, N16 7JL and take the alien with you.



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