Taking the form of a series of short films telling individual stories, ‘Girl Rising’ documents the situation from Peru to Ethiopia, Nepal to Cairo. Some are dramatisations, some documentaries, some cartoons. All enlist the voices of famous women including Cate Blanchett and Salma Hayek. And most are truly horrendous: girls sold into slavery at six, married at seven, denied opportunity, facing down sexual predators and systemic inequality with equal fortitude.
The tone won’t be to everyone’s taste, often evoking a particularly well-meaning Coke advert. But it’s impossible to argue with the sentiments and churlish to suggest that any voice given to these powerless girls isn’t entirely worthwhile.
Sat across the road from Clapham South tube, Yardbird is a (mostly) slick chicken joint with a menu of hot birds and cheesy, fried sides. It’s certainly natty lookin’: both wood-heavy and bare bricked, with copper beer taps and cod-retro lighting. Food, too, was mostly good. The main event were the hunks of bird, brined for 24 hours and then either cooked plain, in a jerk marinade or buttermilked, battered and deep-fried. The jerked bird was fragrant and moist enough, though the herbaceous Caribbean rub was sorely lacking in spice; the fried was far more successful – perfectly crisp, well-portioned and succulent. Paired with teeny pots of smoked aioli and Holy Fuck hot sauce, it was hard to fault. Sides and specials lurched from tip-top to second-rate. Golden, greaseless chicken mac ’n’ cheese balls were as good as that sounds. Blue cheese fries, though, were pallid, erring on soggy. In a glorified fast food spot, fucking up the chips is a schoolboy error. Service was well-meaning but sloppy. Drinks were forgotten. Wrong dips brought to the table. A dessert of salted caramel ice cream with peanut shards and butterscotch sauce (gimme!) had run out, replaced by a vanilla ice cream and choc sauce number. Fair enough – until a tiny glass of cheapo supermarket ice cream turned up, doused in, I swear, that crappy, cold-hardening Crackin’ sauce. Great for Proustian pudding flashbacks, terrible for £5. They do takeaway, though – so I’d advise you take those hot birds home with you
Venue says: “Serving delicious coffee, brunch, chicken, cocktails and craft beer right opposite Clapham Common Southside, with a stunning outside terrace”