Grumpily, Mad-Tongue Moody entered the restaurant. Everyone looked at him expecting to get to know the name of the next Reviewer. He only grunted: “Chiaki Ramen, Spicyness 6! Now, where is the garbage you call food around here? Let’s get this over with.”

With that, he proceeded to taste Darknight’s “A Not So Friendly Sting”: “Wuäääh!”, and he spit out, “you won’t get anything from me, boy! (This is a rating of - - - - -.) Does this even have anything in it? (Sweetness 6 Sourness 4 Umami 5 Spicyness 7) Do I have to continue? Really. Oh well!”
And he closed his dashing eyes and put a mouthfull of Kevan’s “Bee Thermidor aux Bicyclettes” in his mouth. A shock was seen on his face. He opened his eyes - in delight, and exclaimed: “Never tasted anything better! (The rating is * * * * *.) You have to try it! (Sweetness 10 Sourness 10 Umami 10 Spicyness 10 Now, I don’t want to leave anything, but I guess there’s another pile of ...” His voice trailed away when he literally saw the burned mass, piled up almost touching the ceiling, that was carried by four men into the restaurant room. Everyone there almost fainted, but Mad-Tongue Moody stepped forward and, almost celebratingly (is that a word) broke of a pice of the hill and crunched it. He never spoke a word. He also did not leave any leftovers. No one ever knew, what he tasted, but he later rated it * * * * *. He never talked again and thus, did not name a winner of the day.