This cafe has to be seen to be believed. In the basment of a moribund office building. Dim lights to enhance the lack of natural light - walls that haven't been painted since Robert Menzies was the Prime Minister. The aging proprieter has an unnatural dark wig that is no doubt thick with the greasy cooking fat that they use to prepare a range of dangerous deep-fried foodstuffs. That would account for the smell. Oh, and he makes espresso coffee - at least that's what he says it is. It tastes of weak milk and - if you add sugar - sugar. I recommend this place to everyone - no matter how bad you think your life is, you'll feel better when you leave.