Possibly the worst Chinese restaurant, ever.

My fortune cookie came with some interesting philosophy: 'If we're not supposed to eat animals, how came they are made of meat?'

Confucious, he say 'if that's the kind of nonsense going through the heads of the owners of Noble House no wonder the whole place is so idiotic.'

The crazy thing is that this place should be a restaurateur's gift with the constant stream of likely eaters pouring out from the station opposite, plus the massive pubs down the road. Maybe they think we're all daft enough not to care about the experience, maybe even daft enough not to be put off by the strangely blacked-out windows. But the desperate ads for all-you-can-eat buffets tell the real story.

Getting a drink is a tough assignment. Even once we'd got passed the barrier of convincing them there really was a wine called gewurztraminer on the menu we found out they hadn't got any. No chance of a recommendation for something else either. Waitress hadn't got a clue. OK - beer it is. Flat beer, like it had been poured sometime last weekend. You're brave to get a replacement though. Here comes the second one, slammed onto the table with an icy glare.

As for the food, the chef seems to have something weird about colours going on. Nothing else could explain the tufts of parsley bursting from under the 'seaweed'. And the violent orange of the chicken with cashew nuts could surely only have been produced by some kind of radioactive agent. Then there was the bright-green glace cherry to accompany the bought-in dessert. Gross.

I'd be surprised if the cherry were the only thing bought in too. The 'hors d'oeuvres' of prawn toasts, spring rolls etc. strongly suggested itself to have been recently released from a packet and murdered in the deep-fat fryer. At least the crispy duck was carved fresh at the table. Shame it was the fattiest, gristliest duck you'll ever have. And thanks for leaving those lethally sharp and fiddly bones in it too mate.

Must point out the miracle of molecular gastronomy in the seafood 'combination' too. How the hell do you make squid taste like the cartilaginous left-overs of Michael Jackson's latest nose job? And I'm just having to tell myself those mushrooms really were mushrooms and not a radical innovation using boiled slugs.

To paraphrase the apt words of another Cardiff review site, eating at Noble House is like subjecting to yourself to a weird medical experiment. If that's your thing, fine. It sure as heck ain't mine.