Tyger Cove

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Category: Reviews

Yelp Reviews Of Life

Rise and shine

First and foremost: breakfast! What a great idea. Big fan of the “breakfast” thing, especially waffles. And OK, if I had to pick one thing to improve on, it’d probably be the “life is short and goes by fast and sometimes, for no reason, terrible things happen to people you love” part of it. But still: waffles! And maple syrup? Hell yeah!


Well that was awkward

Lots of a cool stuff happened but there were some really embarrassing parts that I have to deduct points for… In 3rd grade, I went to a birthday party and the donkey they rented bit my hand and I threw up because I got so scared. Then in middle school, I kept popping boners at random and inopportune times. Might want to work on that because it’s super-embarrassing. Fewer spontaneous boners (and friendlier donkeys) please.


A magical mystery tour

The best thing ever! You start small & scared but then get bigger and grow and have all sorts of adventures. There are even non-human friends you can have! Like cats or dogs or this one guy I knew had an iguana which is a type of lizard. There are, like, an infinite number of things you can do or try. Loved it!


Work in progress…

Really crowded. Limited number of parking spaces. Often difficult to find a public bathroom. Too easy to get sunburned. Overall it’s a good idea but the whole mess needs work.


Bring back the thunder lizards.

Call me an old-timer but I liked it better when it was that dinosaur joint way back in the day. It’s all fancy and stuck-up now. Someone tried to tell me this scrawny-ass lion was “an apex predator” and I was like “ok, pal… let’s throw Simba in the ring with a t-rex and see how he does…”


Fish are fish.

What a ripoff. You don’t get to pick where you start or who you start with and that sucks. Also, the whole “whales aren’t fish, they’re mammals” thing is way too confusing. They should all be fish. If you swim in the ocean with fins, you’re a fish. Fish are fish.


Worth the wait!

Be prepared for a slow start (mostly just sleeping & crying & shitting yourself). But wait it out because later on you get booze, jazz, girlfriends, fast cars, spring nights in the city, and cool ocean breezes blowing through your bedroom window as you fall asleep. It’s amazing. Also, much later, probably close to the end, you go back to the sleeping & crying & shitting yourself. The middle bit is fantastic, though.


Huge variety but inconsistent quality…

Always kinda considered this whole thing a “tourist trap” but some friends convinced me to give it a shot and I was surprised to find a great selection of people & places. The problem? It’s a trial-and-error process to figure out which ones are any good (a lot of bad apples in the mix). You’ll get it after a while. I loved Miami, the south of France, musicians, and gardeners. Not a fan of New England, fjords, cab drivers, or hedge fund managers.


Totally lost

Loud and confusing. Showed up and got no help. Nobody said what the rules were or what to do. Just wandered around for a while and did some stuff. Not sure what I did or if I’d do it again.


To this I say “meh”

Hate to be a snob but I wasn’t exactly blown away. I though it was way too sentimental and weird in a really contrived way. The whole thing felt like some 2nd-rate Wes Anderson knockoff, to be honest…


oh sweet theyre are no more t-rexes.

lions n big cats suck. bring back thed dinosaurz. remember when we had reall predators?? now its all lame ass cats and wolfs. sharks are ok. what about shark with legs so it could go on land. do that.

Simply splendid

Had a wonderful time. Top-notch service. Quality of the highest order. Was absolutely planning on coming back again but to be quite candid, I am having some difficulty making a reservation. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.


Executive Review (5 Stars)

My friend Jon is hilarious and smart and this is a potent combination. Following a well-earned ban from Yelp, he decided to take his fake-reviewing talents to Amazon where he’s produced some amazing work. A small sample is feature below.


Screen Shot 2014-07-14 at 8.56.37 AMThis orange-juice made a man out of me! (5 Stars)
I was just a boy then. I’d scarcely seen my fifth summer when my father, his gaze heavy with purpose, led me to the top of the hill abutting our lands. Thereupon I spied a lone ox, chained to a post. It was a magnificent beast, well muscled and proud. My father had sharpened his axe upon a stone beside the ox, and as he raised it high, he spoke to me.

“Do not look away,” he said. “For you are almost a man now, and a man should have to see this.”

He drove the axe strong and true, and it snapped the neck of the mighty creature, spilling forth a river of blood upon the iron-streaked soil.

“Hand me your goblet,” my father told me. His tone was solemn and stern.

I handed my father the small metal cup I’d hammered and hewn in our workshop a few weeks prior. He filled it to the brim with the animal’s blood, and handed it to me to drink.

“Drink this,” he said, “For it is by drinking the essence of the fallen that we shall gain their strength and constitution!”

Dutifully I quaffed from the cold, metal goblet, gulping down the warm, briny broth it contained.

“Good,” my father said. And he handed me a second glass, this one filled with a delightfully perfumed orange-drink.

“Drink this,” he said. “It’s pretty good OJ.”

And so it was.

toothbrushesThese toothbrushes bring back fond memories of my apprenticeship to a Greek shepherd! (5 Stars)

When I was a boy of no more than 12 summers, I’d come to wander the countryside, after having lived on the run from the destruction of my father’s ancestral lands at the hands of his own folly. Homeless and alone, I earned my keep on several small fishing vessels off the coasts of the Mediterranean, before finding refuge in the seaside home of one Mr. Hercules Katsoulidis, a Greek shepherd of limited means and boundless generosity. To this day I owe much of my knowledge of animal husbandry, rustic cuisine, archery, wine, and song to the wise words of Hercules Katsoulidis, and I blame him not for the tragedy that soon befell him.

I had just returned to the dinner-table, having spent the afternoon gathering corn-husks and sea urchins for supper, when Hercules burst into the hut, foaming at the mouth, his expression vacant and eerie, a crude machete dangling from his beefy hand. I saw, by the wild and distant look in his eye, and the in-sane smile that crested his lips, that Hercules had been stricken by madness! I would later surmise that he’d contracted the sheep-rabies from a wayward ewe in his flock.

Hercules lurched toward me, salivating, murmuring gibberish from the corners of a mouth that had long ceased to be capable of rendering perceptible human speech. He drew his machete and raised it aloft, and in that instant, I knew I would have to use my limited understanding of the martial arts in order to defend myself.

“Hercules!” I cried. “It is I, the boy who’s come to stay with you! Do you not remember me?!”

The wretched old Greek lunged forward at me in reply, his blade nearly slicing the ear from the side of my skull! I grabbed a splintered broom-handle from the kitchen corner and parried his clumsy blows as best I could, all the while attempting to talk some sense into him.

“Hercules, you old, befuddled fool!” I said. “I’ll do you in if I must! But please, return to your reason! Or have you taken leave of your senses entirely, and do you now stand before me more beast than man?!?”

Sadly, I received the answer to that grim question. Hercules locked eyes with me, and in a low, gutteral growl, he said only this: “Baaaaah. Baaa-aaa-aaaaaaaah! Baaaaa-aaaa!!!”

The rabies indeed! It was too late for him now! My mentor, my savior, my charitable host, had given over his mind to the demon sheep-rabies and had become a madman!

For four long hours, without rest, without relent, I battled Hercules and his machete with my broom-handle to a reasonable stalemate.

“I see,” said I, “That this contest will not be settled by our prowess with these weapons, but with the wits in our skulls!” And at that, I kicked a clod of dirt into the old man’s face, momentarily blinding him. I hesitated to deal the coup de grace the once-proud man probably deserved, and instead, I ran off into the hills under cover of dusk and cloud.

To this day, whenever I brush my teeth with these Colgate Extra Clean Toothbrushes (Full Head – Soft), I think back to my time on the Aeolian isles, and I weep for the man that Hercules Katsoulidis had been, and for the twisted freak he had become. His smile, once so kind and so full, gnashed and gnarled as his mind gave over to madness, and the foam seeped forth from his maw. My smile, ever so soft and refined, maintains its pearly luster on account of these brushes. And with the Lord as my witness, the only foam to fringe the corners of my mouth will come from the rich lather of my toothpaste!


Screen Shot 2014-07-14 at 8.55.40 AM

These shorts saved my prestigious medical career from the accusations of a scoundrel! (5 Stars)

The Rev. Paddington Quincy Farnsworth is a mountebank and a confidence-man of the vilest character. He is an unrepentant peddler of all manner of snake-oils and cure-alls, and he has amassed a considerable fortune in taking advantage of the confidences of willing dupes. I’m not afraid to say that right here and right now, and should he decide to emerge once more from the shadows and the slime to face his critics in the public square, I say let him!!!

On at least fifteen occasions I have had the utter misfortune of having the Rev. Farnsworth attempt to sabotage my spotless medical career, and I’ll brook his nonsense no more! No more!

Approximately two years ago I was delivering a lecture to a distinguished panel of medical researchers at the prestigious Escuela de Medicina in coastal Colombia, overlooking the sparkling blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. No less than halfway through the lecture I was rudely interrupted by chants of “Quack! Quack-quack! This man is a quack!”

The audience fell silent, and aghast, I looked out into the sea of distinguished faces, only to spot my accursed nemesis, the Rev. Paddington Q. Farnsworth, unmistakable in his monocle, his freshly groomed beard-tips, and his dusky combat fatigues.

“Quack-quack!” he continued. “This man here is a quack, I say! Quack! Quack!”

Quickly the crowd began to turn on me, and they joined in the blood-frenzy incited by the rascal Farnsworth. “Quack-quack! This man is a quack!” they screamed. Their faces were filled with bloodlust, and it was not long before a rotten potato-peel arced through the air and landed ignominiously upon my brow.

“Nay,” I shouted. “You have been deceived, my friends! ‘Tis not I who am the quack-doctor, but indeed, it is this man who stands amongst you, the vile and reprehensible scoundrel Paddington Q. Farnsworth! Be led no further astray by his silver tongue and impeccable fashion sense!”

The crowd began to realize the error of its frenzy, and quite soon, turned its venomous attentions to the charlatan Farnsworth. Together we chased the devil out of the lecture hall, across the campus of the Escuela, through seventeen miles of harsh jungle, and down to the rocky coastline. The bastard must have known his hour would come, as he was met at the coastline by a band of hoodlums and a crude bamboo raft. Farnsworth and his cronies beat a hasty escape on the vessel, pushing off into the foggy afternoon and out into the bosom of the mighty gulf!

Several years have passed since last I had the grave misfortune to occasion a glimpse of my hated rival, or to suffer the indignities of his slanders. But I credit my Lucky Brand Men’s Linen Cargo Shorts, size 31M, for giving me the comfort and the freedom of movement to have chased the scoundrel Farnsworth across the jungle and out to the unforgiving sea.

These shorts have saved my prestigious medical career from the baseless depredations of a flim-flam man!


sandalThese sandals rescued me from my folly! (5 Stars)
When I was little, my father and I would stroll through the fields in all the lands surrounding our manor, wishing a good harvest and fine tidings to the peasants who worked the soil.

He never meant those words, of course. My father could be a cruel, capricious landlord. One winter, when the driving rains turned the soil to mush, and the mung-beans and wheat-stalks lay rotten in the waterlogged earth, the peasants cried out in starvation and cursed the gods for their ruin.

My father would sing, and he would laugh, and he would prance about the fields in chicken-feathers and a beak, gleefully tearing up the wheat-stalks and tramping them into the dirt. “Cacaw!! Cacawww!!” he would shout, as in his animalistic frenzy, he would torment the villagers and consign their small children to certain demise.

Afterwards we would dine on fine linens and gold-leafed plates. We would feast on fatted lamb and stuffed goat, and we would slurp a hearty stew, and we would drink our fill of exotic, spiced wines from the furthest corners of the world. Oh, how we wanted for nothing! And oh, how this wanton and careless display of opulence enraged the local peasantry! If you listened closely — and my father did not — you’d hear their talk turn to revolution, their words baited with venom, their intentions violent and resolute.

I awoke one morning to find our castle engulfed in flames, my father screaming for his life and fleeing on horseback, abandoning me to whatever cruel fate the revolutionaries had in store for me.

And so I grabbed what little I could, including these fine sandals by Adidas, and I ran out into the dusty streets, beating a hasty escape from the life I had known and all it entailed. I know not where the road ahead will take me. But I do know that I will walk that road in comfort and style, with these reasonably priced and durable Adidas Duramo Slide Sandals in Navy and White, Size 12M.

J. Campbell-Smithbone


Eat Well Enjoy Life’s White Bean Hummus:
A Comprehensive Review

The Purchase

While I was initially distraught by cashier-to-customer ratio, the check-out process was passable and relatively painless. The cashier was a young fellow in his mid-twenties sporting an immaculate hair sweep, the arm tattoos of a sailor, and the sort of tight trousers that are popular amongst the youth of Cambridge. These trousers leave little to the imagination and based on a perfunctory glance, one could (if so inclined) easily rate his junk. My butler Thompson deemed it to be “average” but he is lout and prone to exaggeration. The young man inquired as to how I was doing and I told him to mind the task at hand and ring me up. My sharp direction made short work of his inane banter and I was out in a jiffy.


Eat Well Enjoy Life’s White Bean Hummus comes in an industrially produced plastic package. There is a conspicuous lack of craftsmanship & detail and the container seems to be the rough work of either a machine or a thuggish working-man. The label on top is a garish mess of green and yellow. I found it to be painful and Thompson poured me a large dram of scotch to offset the resulting headache. Under the cover was a thin plastic film that had to be removed. It was coated with oil and flecks of bean dip and a good portion of both ended up on my hand. I deemed this barbaric, finished my scotch, and beat Thompson with a spatula for good measure. The president of Eat Well Enjoy Life should expect heated correspondence in the near future.

Flavor, Texture, and Quality

Shoddy packaging aside, Eat Well Enjoy Life’s White Bean Hummus is actually a delightful comestible. The flavor is subtle but confident and blended well with the traditional crackers Thompson had procured for our sampling. The dip itself consists of a thick & mealy texture but in a manner that does’t offend the palate. Some of the lesser crackers were broken and lost during the “scooping” process but I shed no tears. They were not of hearty stock and deserved their crumbly fate. In summation, Eat Well Enjoy Life’s White Bean Hummus is a refined combination of noble grace & simple boldness, like a white swan taking flight whilst sporting a stiff erection. Hats off to you, sirs, for achieving such a delicate balance.

Final Word

This spread earns a well-deserved Earl of Oxfordshire rating (on a scale from Earl of Kent to Lord of Yorkshire)

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