Pizza Factory

«You’re hijacking my time» I shouted as my friend told me to come into Pizza Factory out of the cold. We had been to the pub a few doors down (the Maggie’s) and she insisted on getting a pizza. It was not even eleven o clock yet and I wasn’t that drunk. Nowhere near drunk enough to be shoving down greasy junk food.
But it was cold outside so the two of us who didn’t have spare cash for random pizzas joined her inside. Oh dear. I felt like my face was having a physical reaction to my environment– so greasy– why didn’t they keep the door open or install a massive window for god’s sake? The guy sorting out the food barely acknowledged us except to hand over the pizza (pepperoni, £4) without a smile.
The pizza was ok — oh come on, of course I was gonna have a slice. And along with the usual burgers, chips they did have a few intriguing concoctions like their lemon garlic chicken pizza with green peppers. But to be honest I doubt my life would suffer greatly if I never stepped foot into this place again.
I don’t understand why Pizza Factory is here — Pronto is literally five minutes up Bury Old Road and lots of people who get this sort of food do so in Manchester or Bury town centres at 3am not at 11pm in Prestwich — my friend being the exception of course.