For the past seven years, I have been frequenting your café twice a week—Tuesdays and Thursdays—for a cup of coffee and a pastry. This weekly routine has become precious to me, and I have, until today, looked forward to my weekly outings. I said, until today.

In my opinion, your establishment has, until today, been serving the best coffee in town. The coffee in your percolators, which I have so enjoyed, and which has meant so much to me, has always been fresh, always of fulsome strength, and always piping hot. It has, until today, helped keep me going through some of the toughest times in my life; its refreshing taste has given me hope when I had none, and its warmth has revived me through the coldest days of seven winters.

Alas, no more.

Today, I find that you have replaced your coffee percolators with a machine that splutters and spews a tepid muddy-brown/-black liquid into the cup. I hesitate to call the stuff coffee. I would appreciate being able to accurately describe it as foul-tasting, but the fact of the matter is that the fluid (erroneously sold under the epithet of coffee) fails to stimulate the taste buds in any constructive manner whatsoever. It simply does not taste. On the contrary, the distinct lack of stimulation of my taste buds by that liquid, combined with its lacking all viscosity, its evident partially-suspended sludge-like precipitate, and tepidity caused me to vomit the bilious bleck across the café, before I rapidly took my leave of the place, never to return.

Regrettably, in my haste to put as much distance as possible between me and that despicable choler adust, I omitted to apologise for the mess my attack of nausea caused, or offer to make restitution for the thorough cleansing of the walls and ceiling that my bilge-water-induced vomitting made necessary. Despite my holy vow never to return to your establishment, I am willing to make restitution. Should you wish me to foot the cleaning bill, please seek me out for payment in full. You will find me in my new watering hole—the local sewage plant—accompanied by my trusty Primus stove, and a jar of coffee powder.