The £15 Avocado Trap — Why Central London Breakfasts Are a Scam in Disguise
English breakfast was once the working man’s daily fuel—greasy, glorious, and never more than a fiver at a decent caff. Now? The same plate, cleaned up and sprinkled with chives, is £18 and served by someone named Finn who calls you “babe.”


By The Bean Sprout
There’s a quiet scandal brewing beneath the poached eggs and turmeric lattes of Central London: breakfast has become an extortion racket. And no one seems to be talking about it.
In Soho, Covent Garden, or Fitzrovia, you can barely sit down before you’re being charged £14.50 for eggs on toast—and that’s before you add any extras. Want a sausage? That’s another £3. Bacon? £3.50. A hash brown? Weirdly, the same price as a small Picasso print.
You’ll leave having eaten what is essentially a 30p egg, half an avocado, and a slice of sourdough, but your card balance will feel like you spent the weekend in Ibiza.
The “Artisanal” Illusion
What used to be a humble start to the day has been transformed into a lifestyle performance. Menus now read like manifestos:
“Heritage tomatoes”
“Ancient grain granola”
“Wildflower honey harvested by monks on the Isle of Wight”
It’s breakfast, not a pilgrimage.
Let’s break this down:
A box of six free-range eggs costs under £2. A loaf of decent sourdough is £3. So even if you’re using high-quality ingredients, how do we get to £16 for ‘eggs florentine’?
We don’t. It’s marketing markup, baby. Breakfast has become a status symbol.
Bottomless Brunch = Bottomless Nonsense
Ah yes, the bottomless brunch. The modern capitalist brunch-industrial complex. For £45, you can have one pancake, a whisper of smoked salmon, and four diluted mimosas made with Prosecco that tastes like printer ink.
The margins on this are wild. You’re paying for the Instagram clout and a vague feeling that you’re doing something sophisticated. It’s not breakfast. It’s theatre.
Is It Really That Hard to Make Toast?
The most egregious example: £5.50 for buttered toast. Not even a topping. Just toast. For that price, I want a life coach and a hug from Nigella Lawson.
Let’s not forget: we’re in a country where the full English breakfast was once the working man’s daily fuel—greasy, glorious, and never more than a fiver at a decent caff. Now? The same plate, cleaned up and sprinkled with chives, is £18 and served by someone named Finn who calls you “babe.”
The Central London Breakfast Formula:
Rent: high.
Tourists: plentiful.
Locals: too tired to argue.
Solution: hike the prices, give it a minimalist font, add chili flakes. Done.
How to Beat the Breakfast Scam:
Go old school. Find your local greasy spoon and never let go. It’s where real value and real conversation live.
DIY breakfasts. Cook at home and save £40. You can make five brunches for the price of one at The Ivy.
Avoid the Instagram cafés. If the tables are pink, the coffee is £5 and the food is a lie.
Final Word
If you’re paying more for your breakfast than a cinema ticket, you’ve been had. Central London has many charms—but £18 for porridge shouldn’t be one of them. Demand better. Or at least demand jam with your £5 toast.
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