Let’s be honest: Franco Manca’s sourdough was the celebrity of the pizza world—famous, but you’re not entirely sure why. It was chewy, sometimes raw in the middle, and always left you wondering if you just ate a bread-based science experiment. Now, 16 of their 50-plus UK locations are closing, affecting 225 jobs—a number roughly equal to the amount of people who actually enjoy anchovies on their pizza.
You have to appreciate the irony. In a world where we can have pizza delivered to our doorstep by a robot, a hand-tossed sourdough base suddenly doesn’t seem worth the 25-minute wait. One restaurant worker told me, “I’ve handed out more free olive oil packets than actual cheers today.” I made that up, but I bet it’s close.
Where Did It All Go Wrong?
The official statement says they’re “restructuring to focus on stronger locations.” Translation: they’re pulling up the drawbridge on 16 failing outposts while trying to look cool about it. It’s like telling your friends you’re moving to a smaller apartment because you’re “downsizing your carbon footprint.” Buddy, we know the rent is too high.
Surprising fact number one: Franco Manca was actually born from a market stall in Brixton. It started as a tiny, grumpy little pizza joint with a wood-fired oven that looked like a dragon’s lair. Fast-forward fifteen years, and that dragon is now breathing its last on the high street. Surprising fact number two: The chain is owned by the same parent company as Byron Hamburgers—yes, the burger chain that’s been on life support longer than a reality TV star’s career. Birds of a feather, apparently, flock to bankruptcy together.
Franco Manca to shutter 16 sites with over 200 jobs at risk | News
So, 225 people are losing their jobs. That’s a real bummer—unless you’re one of those people who thinks a pizza should come with a knife and fork and a side of existential dread. The employees will likely find new work, probably at a burrito place that also claims to be “authentic.” Or they’ll start a YouTube channel called “I Survived the Sourdough Apocalypse.” I’d watch that.
Let’s not forget the real victims here: us. The customers. What will we do without a chain that charges £12 for a margherita and then acts like we’re the crazy ones for asking for a side of chilli oil? We’ll have to go back to Dominos, where the dough is pre-made, the cheese is plastic, and you can get a heart attack with free garlic dip. Progress.
