Pizza-----Douglas Adams The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

Not the best of pizzas, but It filled us up nicely. My loyal readers should know by now that I have to try a pizza everywhere I go.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Douglas Adams. The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

She enjoyed the notion that New York was home, and that
she missed it, but in fact the only thing she really missed was
pizza. And not just any old pizza, but the sort of pizza they
brought to your door if you phoned them up and asked them to.
That was the only real pizza. Pizza that you had to go out and
sit at a table staring at red paper napkins for wasn't real
pizza however much extra pepperoni and anchovy they put on it.
London was the place she liked living in most, apart, of
course, from the pizza problem, which drove her crazy. Why
would no one deliver pizza? Why did no one understand that it
was fundamental to the whole nature of pizza that it amved at
your front door in a hot cardboard box? That you slithered it
out of greaseproof paper and ate it in folded slices in front
of the TV? What was the fundamental flaw in the stupid,
stuck-up, sluggardly English that they couldn't grasp this
simple principle? For some odd reason it was the one
frustration she could never learn simply to live with and
accept, and about once a month or so she would get very
depressed, phone a pizza restaurant, order the biggest, most
lavish pizza she could describe - pizza with an extra pizza on
it, essentially - and then, sweetly, ask them to deliver it.
"To what?"
"Deliver. Let me give you the address - "
"I don't understand. Aren't you going to come and pick it
up?"
"No. Aren't you going to deliver? My address - "
"Er, we don't do that, miss."
"Don't do what?"
"Er, deliver. . ."
"You don't deliver? Am I hearing you
correctly... ?"
Douglas Adams. The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul