It's not a venerable institution with jacketed staff buzzing like bluebottles around portly elites at linen swagged tables, nor will the food be anything to write home about. It's a perfectly preserved example of the down at heel blue collar cafes that thronged London's streets from the middle of last century.
Proudly strutting under the noses of nearby chains on now sanitised Wardour Street, Bruno's feels like an anachronism, a tasty throwback to the 60s with it's laminate table tops, distressed vinyl seats and coffee machine in pride of place on the counter. 'Why not try a... chicken burger' implores the faded sign of an ages unchanged mix of quirky Soho citizens and locally working wisecracking labourers.
The provenance may be cash and carry rather than heritage producer but almost nothing beats the pleasure of hand loading rounds of salty bacon between slabs of chewy butter soaked bloomer and firing it down your neck. Nothing that is other than using your improvised device to mop the glistening eggy plate first.
These days, a fry a week puts you in health check territory and even at £7 with tea and toast you wouldn't want too many of these. That being said, if you are living the unexamined life or are in need of a ketchup shaped blob of nostalgia, then Bruno's your man.
Next craving from dining restaurant london specialty: sausage. That one is absolutely to die for.
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