A Rochdale couple are lucky to be alive, and slightly tipsy, after an enormous swordfish sculpture fell on them during a birthday lunch at Manchester’s Sexy Fish, in what critics are already calling “the most violent seafood encounter since that prawn cocktail in Bury in 2003.”
Julie and Peter Evans, 69 and 72 respectively, had ventured from the mean streets of Rochdale to the glitzy dystopia of Spinningfields to celebrate Peter’s birthday with something flashier than a two-for-one mixed grill. What they got instead was airborne sculpture, airborne drinks, and airborne dignity.
The wall-mounted fish, reportedly more decorative than deadly, detached itself mid-lunch and landed squarely on Peter’s back, while Julie was soaked in what experts believe to be a £24 cocktail called something like “Oceanic Bliss.”
“They gave us champagne, drinks, and asked if we needed an ambulance,” said Julie, while Peter was last seen asking if the swordfish came with chips.
Rather than sue, scream, or slap a waiter with a wine list, the couple praised the restaurant’s response, including a new outfit for Julie, replacement drinks, and enough customer service to make a Rochdale Wetherspoons weep.
“I can’t praise them enough,” she added, possibly concussed, or just dazzled by the sheer quantity of prosecco.
The restaurant, famed for its surreal décor, expensive menu and clientele who wear sunglasses indoors, confirmed they were “in close contact” with the couple, though it’s unclear if this means compensation or just awkward small talk about sushi.
An internal investigation has been launched, with safety specialists confirming the restaurant is now “swordfish secure”, though rumours persist that a rogue lobster near the dessert bar has been eyeing diners suspiciously.
Peter, who reportedly took the blow like “a proper northern bloke” and only winced when the complimentary sake was warm, said he was “just glad Julie didn’t order the tuna.”
Staff remain on alert, and diners are advised to keep one eye on the ceiling and one hand on their insurance policy, just in case the décor gets lively again.
Reporting from down the M62, where the only thing falling off the walls is damp plaster and moral standards.
