Banksy at the table

Banksy's cuisine is not that of a set table, but of the street and the 'greasy spoon' — those working-class caffs that punctuate the urban day. The rhythm goes: the morning 'fry-up' for stamina, lunch gulped down standing up wrapped in paper, the eternal cup of tea at all hours, the pickle lurking in the cupboard, and ice cream nicked from the sea on a Sunday. No starter-main-dessert: democratic, cheap, unpretentious snacks — exactly the kind of food an anonymous hoodie can grab without leaving a trace.

A Maltese condiment, vinegary and falsely sweet (dates, tamarind, molasses), brown sauce is the absolute marker of the British caff. You drown bacon, eggs, chips in it. It's the democratic umami of the English working class — accessible, irreverent, ubiquitous as a tag.