Mr Egg is a magnificent place in the middle of Birmingham. The ebcb is splendid. Look at that decorative plate for a start. The chips are crisp and delicate, the beans juicey and energetic and the bacon's got that delicious hint of carbonisation. And bless that modest little egg, hiding away at the back there.
The interior is great practical cafe stuff. Easy to clean. Suitable for all kinds of patrons; the drunk and the sober. But it's also got some great little hints of exuberant individuality.
They're obviously equipped to deal with tons of customers - all at once. There's a real industrial feel to some of this stuff.
Perfect place to sit and watch Brum go by.
Sugar is one of those difficult decisions cafes have to make. Will it be sachets, bowls or dispensers? Or will it be - as per Mr Egg - one of these fantastic sugar stations? With, in this instance, a place for the dumping of tea bags. Mr Egg's gone for the plastic spoons but I'm always a fan of the places that have just a few metal spoons - stored in a mug of lukewarm water for extra hygiene.
See the bottom of this sign. Mr Egg managment. Simultaneously sinister and cute. Like the Mafia in Toy Town, running a speakeasy around the back of Noddy's place.
And the coup de cafe - a large cloth egg stapled to the ceiling.
I don't seem to have a good exterior shot. (Though Pete Ashton's got one here). Except for this great sign outside. You can also eat like a king if you'd prefer.