Manuel Exposed!

This is what happens when Manuel goes out for a drink! This picture was taken by my smart arse of a cousin who I used to share this house with. I got him back on more than a few occasions when he arrived home talking like a washing machine and walking like a new born lamb. I had arrived home from an awards dinner full to the brim with champagne, red wine, and cider. If you drink champagne, red wine, and cider you can expect to fall down, bang your head, and decide that the fireplace is just a super place to go to sleep! As it's my birthday this week I decided to share this picture with you so that you can get a very rough idea what sort of a man-god Manuel is. It's my birthday gift to you....

Notes:

1. Exposed belly button, hairy. (Scary)
2. Large rotund arse, also hairy, also scary.
3. Despite being as drunk as a man can possibly be I am still dapper and well turned out with my bow tie still in place....class is as class does......

That picture was taken about 3 years ago. But as I am going out tonight to see St.Vincent and the very fantastic The National you should assume that I will look much the same tomorrow. I haven't been out with the boys in quite a long time so I intend to make the best of it. I may reappear some time on Thursday, I may not. I could be sick. What could go wrong? Oh and if I pop by your blog and leave some drunken comment about how much I love you and think you are fantastic and if it wasn't for you I would be blogging, just delete it. I'm very full of shit when I'm drunk........

Teflon Trousers for a sticky boy

It could be worse I suppose....

I've been following the excitement surrounding Alain Ducasse's new London restaurant. For those who don't know Alain Ducasse has 12 Michelin stars, Mr Ramsay has 11 (thus a smaller penis). Between all the waffle about the "energy of London" and the "aesthetic of the plate" it was revealed that the waiters were being fitted for their uniforms by two French tailors flown in by Mr Ducasse from Paris. What the fuck is this? I AM SERIOUSLY WORKING IN THE WRONG RESTAURANT.

My "uniform" was tossed to me in a plastic bag having being sized up by a manager. "You must be a large? Extra large maybe?" Cheeky bastard. The first uniform I was given was a maternity smock for men. Honestly it was huge, I looked like Homer in a Muumuu. But I was the new boy so I had to suck it up until I worked out how far I could push my luck. Shirts and aprons are issued like alms for the poor at Christmas, that is to say rarely, and you have to prove your need. Unless there is a visible hole on your shirts forget about it. It doesn't matter that your shirt is grey instead of black and practically dissolved.

No, if you need a replacement shirt or apron you have to be more than a bit cunning and take things into your own hands. Your options being:

1. Suck up to a manager. Not for me but used quite a bit by the Princess. Lots of arm stroking and "Have you lost weight?" I'd rather walk about in the buff. Saying that I'm so hairy people would just assume I was wearing an all in one wooly jumper suit. The mind boggles at the thought.
   
2. "Liberate" your shirt. If you find yourself in the office alone just bypass the open safe and head for the box of uniforms. You may not find your size but you should just go ahead and liberate something any way. You can swap it for fags or favours or something less prison like.
   
3. Snatch the leavers bag. When staff leave they have to return their uniform and this can be another way to add to your collection. Okay it's been worn by somebody else but I ain't proud. If the guy was a stinker then his returns just get binned but if he was a washer and no stranger to deodorant then it's a winner! You just have to intercept him on his way to the office. "Hey I'll take that up for you."
   
4. If you leave your apron lying at your arse then you can expect to lose it. This also applies to service cloths too. I tend to give it 24 hours but if it's still there a day later it becomes Manuel's property. Tough titty.
5. Just throw a wobbly. Not very cunning but it works.
   

It would be fair to say that I have amassed a generous collection of shirts etc, enough for about ten days without having to do laundry. Cunning works! I'd love to have my uniform handmade by French tailors, even local tailors would be good. My trousers are sewn by people, probably 5 year olds, in China for the exclusive St Bernard's at Dunnes Stores, £12 for 2 pairs. Classy. Most restaurant uniforms in Belfast are paid for by the drinks companies. The rub being that you have to have their logo stamped on it. Thankfully we just have one small Guinness logo on the back of our shirts. But some places send their waiters and bar staff out looking like Formula 1 cars. You just know the French wouldn't be standing for that...

...a whole lot worse

And baby makes 4!

WellDoneFillet To Go

Introducing the mobile phone (cell phone for my American chums, I'm very international you know) friendly version of WellDoneFillet. It's a stripped down, no images, no flashing bits, no video, easy to load alternative of this site for mobile phones etc. I'm so bloody up with the new and wonderful gadgets I'm thinking of changing my name to Manuel Jobs. So now you can read WellDoneFillet on the bus, on the train, on the toilet where ever you are happiest. Of course you can still view this site on your phone but it is a bit slow to get up and running, much like me in the morning. In addition to posts from WellDoneFillet you will also get posts from What the Waiter Knows as well. I'm like Santa Claus without the beard. Saying that, I'll probably get bored with it and chuck it in the virtual corner.

Who loves ya baby...?

(Proper post later)

I will let you down

my sort of Socialist Party

I have got no follow through. I get bored easily you see. I start things that I never complete. I've always been this way. As a child my bedroom was filled with half made Lego houses and Airfix models with no wings. The fact that WellDoneFillet is still going is just amazing to be honest. I really did expect to get bored with it after a few weeks. It wouldn't have surprised me if it had been dumped in the corner along with all the other things I couldn't be arsed with anymore. Things like:

1. Socialism. I tried Socialism for about 7 or 8 weeks back in ought 3. It wasn't the socialism itself that bored me rigid but Socialists and specifically the Socialists from the Socialist Workers Party. Fuck me with a hardback edition of Das Kapital were those kids dull. Now the dullness I could actually deal with, dialectical theories aren't meant to be a laugh a minute I assume, it was the constant smugness and the "we are right they are wrong" attitude that forced me out. I wasn't actually forced out, I just didn't go back. The party itself was stuffed full of well meaning kids who had a genuine interest in the world but was ruled by some seriously egomaniacal types. And only their brand of Socialism was right. I attended a number of Anti-War rally's, Trade Union protests and open meetings were members of other Socialist groups were present. You remember that scene from THE LIFE OF BRIAN? "Are you the Judean People's Front? Fuck off! What? Judean People's Front. We're the People's Front of Judea! Judean People's Front. Cawk. Wankers." Well that's what they were like. It was like arguing that your shit was better than someone else's shit. Bored me all the way to my local Gap shop.....
   
2. Photography. I tried photography for a while too. I bought a really sweet camera, bought about 15 books, took a night class (which I didn't complete), spent a fortune on gadgets, lenses, filters, paper, chemicals, changing bags, tripod, and all sorts of crap that is now in the loft. The camera itself is in a river in a jungle in Thailand. I don't want to talk about it. I was a really really bad photographer. I mean terrible. My fingers were the star's of many of my shots. If anything came out well it was by accident rather than design. Photography cost me a fortune. I got out of it before I sold the couch for film.....
3. Being Married. Not strictly speaking my fault, well not entirely my fault. I gave it a go for a couple of years but it wasn't for me. Clearly being married to me wasn't for her either. In the years after our divorce I asked her why she got fed up with me and the first thing she said was, "I hated that you never learnt to drive."
   
4. Learning to drive. HOW BORING IS THAT! Oh my God it's just so dull! My driving instructor clearly agreed as we spent most of my lessons playing the role of South Park characters. Seriously, that made it bearable but not enough for me to keep doing it. And it was costing a fortune to go for a drive pretending to be Cartman. Cars and driving have never interested me but I took lessons because that's what adults are meant to do. For that reason alone it had to go...
   
5. Going off the fags. The last time I tried to stop smoking I lasted 6 hours. Those were the worst six hours of my life, and Little Miss Manuel's life, and the kids that called to my house collecting money for charity. I got the patches, the pretend plastic jobbie, the books, the minging chewing gum, all the crap one has to get to go off the smokes. Awful. Not doing that again in a hurry...
6. Badge Making. I bought a badge making machine thingy a few years ago. I made badges from when I got up until I went to bed. Then one day I just stopped. I just stopped making badges. I never made a badge again. I can barely even look at a badge anymore. So many memories, so many tears......
7. Going to the gym. Who the hell was I kidding? I bought membership, bought the gear, bought water, so much water, bought a gym bag, God I even bought wristbands. Oh the horror! I went for about 4 weeks. Then I started to find excuses not to go. I knew LMM would give up mithering me to go in the end. It was just too hard and cutting into my sitting time. I love a good sit........
8. The Waiter, Can You Wait?. You are going to have to. Oh yes it's over. Far too much like hard work. Was going to write one last episode where they all got killed in a bus crash but couldn't be bothered. Meh what you gonna do?
   

This list was supposed to have ten entries but you guessed it I just couldn't be bothe..............

Awh look at it's little hands

Artist's impression of a giant hamster at city hall
not the first rodent in there it has to be said.....

If you put a giant hamster wheel in the centre of Belfast you have to expect giant hamsters. It's inevitable. Mark my words they're coming......

More pictures of The Belfast Eye

More Pictures of Hamsters (some big, some small)

It's probably quite sad but this is the greatest thing to happen in Belfast since Spud's introduced the Mousetrap burger in '88. Happy days I can tell you. Belfast is a town of happy go lucky people who will happily pay £6.00 to go round and around in a big wheel for 13 minutes. Hahahahahaha I couldn't even write that with a straight face. Taxi drivers are a good barometer of what the "ordinary man" thinks of the Belfast Eye, "Fucking con if ye ask me. Score a quid to go round in circles? Are you fucking joking? Wha?" He finished off by telling me he was taking his kids next week. Which is what most people will do, slag it off but go all the same.

Not me though, scared of heights. Never gonna happen, and it would be just my luck to be on it when the Giant Fucking Hamsters show up.......

Post Script
I don't want you to get the impression that I am in some way opposed to The Belfast Eye I am not. I'm all for it. I really do like things like this and big needles, and street art and all that stuff that gets taxi drivers all upset. My only worry is the aforementioned Giant Hamsters.

Are you worried about Giant Hamster attacks or the other rodents in City Hall (both giant and regular) then subscribe to WellDoneFillet and keep up to date with all the rodentish goings on.....

"Will the happiness never end?" It's over

All good things must come to an end. Hostilities resumed last night with gusto. There was no one major issue just a culmination of a thousand little things. I'm in a right fucking grump now. It's everybody else's fault and I accept no personal responsibility at all. I just want to pull the duvet over my head and sleep until the world evolves into a brighter happier place. Or until "God" makes it's so, if you are that way inclined.

Until then I have just one thing to say to all the mouth breathers, crotch sniffers, entitlement dingleberries, the people who say "I Know your boss", the cheap fucks with invalid discount card's, the suck ups, the people with friends in high places, the people in high places, the liars, the criers, the people who should know better, the fat people (you are taking up two seats), the thin people (you aren't even eating!), the drunk parents, the drunk kids, the drunk phone calls, the coat losers, the phone losers, the bag abandoners, the tantrum throwers, the table thumpers, the tardy, the stupid questioners, the coffee machine, the food lift, the one pen in my pocket of five pens that doesn't work, my landlord, my cooker, power trippers, the meek, the pittance that is my wages, the people who set the wages, the five days until I'm off for a week, being 35 in a week, not being 25 in a week, the shitty tippers, the non-tippers (you're gonna get yours), the huffers and puffers, the people in a hurry (you should'a fucking booked then), smokers, non-smokers, cigarettes (you got me and I can't get out), whinging, whinging about whinging.......

FUCK YOU.

clicky
Peaches knows the score

I'd love to spend some time in a locked room with a full bladder and this waste of human skin. Anthony Anderson urinated on a dying woman and recorded it to use it on YouTube. Given my current mood I'd probably do more than empty my bladder. Beyond words......

Who will take his place?

"Eddie" started the same time as me, but Thursday was his last shift. He is moving on to a new place filled with the same sort of customers and the same sort of customer issues. In honour of Eddie I have decided to re-post a bit I did about him way back in the early days of WellDoneFillet when nobody read it. Ah those were simpler times.....Farewell Eddie, just think of all those lovely new ladies.......

"Eddie" The Gentleman Whore (Names have been changed to protect the guilty)

Every restaurant/bar is staffed by enough freaks to stock a carnival. The bigger the freak you are the longer you can last in this industry. That's why normal people don't last very long and eventually leave and get a "real job". In reality they are just moving to a job that is staffed by people that have the same carnival genes as them! Clearly I am speaking metaphorically here, well to a point, I have worked with a few bearded ladies and John Merrick types over the years. No, the freak gene I refer to manifests itself by interfering with the logic receptors on your brain. It scrambles that part of your brain that puts up with shit, that puts up with abuse from customers, that keeps you from leaving. It's caused by "barteria" (see what I did there?). This barteria seeps into your blood and goes directly to your brain. Once there it grows over your logic receptors like mould on bread. The longer you work in bars/restaurants the harder it is to leave. It's not your fault, it's the barteria.

The characters are the same from outlet to outlet. There will be a mixture of psychotics, whore's (both male and female), the trendy kids, loners (who aren't psychotics), spides, and management suck ups. These can be divided further. Spides for example can be both malignant (they will rob your bag, your tips, your house when your at work) and benign (they can get you pirate dvd's, they can get anything chipped, they "know" people who can get drugs). But today I want to concentrate on the whores, specifically a man whore. Lets call him "Eddie".

Eddie likes the ladies and the ladies like Eddie. I am secure enough in my sexuality to say that Eddie is a good looking guy, no Manuel but hey! Eddie has nailed them all, customers and staff. It's getting to the point were it would be easier just to schedule it as part of a new employee's first week. Day one orientation, Day two beverage training, Day three introduction to Eddie, Day four food service, Day five sleep with Eddie! Eddie is a legend there is no doubt about it. But what makes Eddie a bigger legend is that he doesn't boast about his liaisons. He fills his boots and moves on. I respect that. Most if not all male whores shout about their conquests, as they see it. Eddie remains the gentleman. But in this incestuous world of hospitality it always leaks out. And when you ask him about it he will confirm or deny as is appropriate. The other bit that makes him a legend is his ability to work with or serve these people after the event. There is never an atmosphere or even a hint of bitterness. He is also very selective, choosing only those ladies that are actually nice people. It's remarkable if you ask me. Hey, maybe he doesn't actually sleep with them, maybe he just hugs and listens to their problems.
Clutching at straws?
Bitter?
Me?

So who will take his place? You?

Will the happiness never end?

The waiter has some more recommendations. I do this out of love for you people. I'm still in a good mood after Tuesday night's wine course. Only 9 people bothered to show up giving me the opportunity to get my voice heard. I can still remember that fantastic moment,"sprouts, maybe damp cardboard?" To which the lecturer replied, "Yes I agree." Well you can imagine my delight. I regaled LMM with that story all night. She cried, I assume with a mixture of joy and pride. I'm hoping to get 2 whole sentences out next time. Maybe it was the fantastic German wine we finished with but I am starting to get into that class. It was a bottle of Riesling. Now I haven't had German wine in about 15 years. But my God was it good. If the weather holds up this weekend I say try a bottle and just pretend it's summer. Or get stoned and really pretend. What ever suits best....

Food: This is only for those of you blessed enough to live in Belfast. Thai Tanic on Eglantine Avenue has been around for a few years but I had never ventured further than it's window. This despite all my friends telling me it was great. It has a recommendation from John & Sally McKenna's Bridgestone Guide. Try the chilli and basil stir fry. It's freaking great as is the mixed entree which consists of spring roll, curry puff, money bag, and prawn crackers. LMM had the Thai Green Curry and of course I stuck my spoon/spade into it too, and it was beautiful. And the name is of course is great. My only problem was when I went to collect my order, they do delivery as well, was for some insane reason the person on the counter was the only one that didn't speak English. This lead to a whole load of confusion and frustration as I tried to explain what I was doing there. But try it, it's worth the hassle.

Music: St Vincent has been listed and reviewed on most of the good music websites/blogs. And with great justification. It's just such a beautiful album. Get it done. "Jesus saves, I spend" goosebumbily good....

Annie Clark
St. Vincent

Mobile phone: I got a new one this week. I've never really been interested in mobiles. I always got my sister's hand me downs. If it could make a call and send text messages that was good enough for me. But then LMM arrived round one day with the Nokia N95 and I went all weak at the knees and dribbled for a bit. LMM thought I had suffered a stroke. It's just so pretty and pointless too, like Katie Melua but at least my phone sounds better. It doesn't make your conversations any more meaningful. It doesn't correct your grammar and it doesn't make you taller, unless you stand on it and why would you do that? But it does look lovely sitting on it's own pillow on my bed, and that's fine by me. Take that iPhone. (I didn't mean that sorry Steve, just messing with you. I still love all your lovely things honest) And now I can blog from the toilets at work. So think about that the next time you go to comment......

Chocolate: Shouldn't this be in the food section? No, chocolate is different. I'm not a girl you know. But I do like good chocolate. Most shops don't sell good chocolate. The return of the WISPA was greeted like the hostages coming home for some unknown reason. "Oh isn't it wonderful. It looks smaller but it has been tied to a radiator in Beirut for 5 years......." Not for me, I admit I am a snob when it comes to chocolate. Green and Black's being my chocolate of choice. The Caramel and Maya Gold are just so good it's not right. They use Fairtrade and organic ingredients, which makes you feel good when your stuffing your face with snobby chocolate. I normally eat these bars at about 3 in the morning, in the dark, on my own, naked, honest. It's just so I don't have to share. Greedy fat man does what a greedy fat man does to stay that way.......If you like chocolate then get some...All that said I have NEVER refused a Snickers when offered.


Blogs: Anthony Bourdain eats the beating heart of a Cobra over at Food and Drink Ireland. Take that Mr Ramsay. Not in his wildest dreams will Gordon "Pantomime Baddie" Ramsay ever be as cool/hard as Mr Bourdain. And yes eating the beating heart of a Cobra is both cool and hard. There are more waiters getting upset about life, customers and chefs here, and here. But don't dare forsake me for another waiter, I couldn't stand the rejection. And not forgetting What the waiter knows, if you need good red wine for under £10 the waiter knows where to get it. Do you know which restaurant won Irish restaurant of the year? The Waiter does.

So to recap, eat Thai food and chocolate (naked if you wish), drink Riesling, listen to St. Vincent, read blogs, and call home on your new mobile. What would you do without me? (Stay thin and fully clothed?-LMM)

There are happy stories too

shiny happy people
wear shiny happy shoes
not me though

I'm not always angry. I'm quite often a very happy person. It's just that some/a lot of people bring the hate out in me. Yesterday's story of Mrs Slovenly McGinBreath being a prime example and the story of Mrs Cuntish Bastard being another. In fact this blog will act as evidence for the prosecution when I finally do go mad and take a dining room full of customers out. And I mean out in the Hollywood sense. I mean it's one story after the other of moaning customers, moaning waiters, moaning chefs, and more moaning waiters. It's a wonder I go to work at all. Saying that I was very happy on Thursday night. I know you're thinking the tips must have been good, why else would he be happy? But it wasn't the tips alone. In fact the tips were just okay.

I had a walk-in of a table of four, 2 men and 2 women. At first I thought it was two couples out on a double date. But something didn't seem right. They were all trying too hard. And when one of the guys called one of the women Jenny only to be told her name was "Jane, you silly man" I realised that these were brand new "friendships." These men were very alpha. Striped shirts with cuff links, Blackberry's, pin stripe trousers and big booming voices. The alpha's work day uniform.

The lead alpha did most of the talking, someone has to be top dog and as he was wearing black patent shoes so clearly he was the top dog. He ordered the wine, a very nice bottle of Chablis which just happens to be our most expensive white wine, and a round of vodka and........Redbull. Classy mother fucker. He asked me my name and then continued to use it for the rest of the night like we were old buddies. I fucking hate that. But worst of all he ordered for the two ladies like they weren't there.

"She'll have the rib-eye medium with mash"

"I want chips."

"Actually Manuel give her chips will you."

As if he had decided the chips would be better for her. I wrote none of her order down without checking with her. I was talking to her as he was talking to me. Someone was getting ignored. He was ignoring her. I was ignoring him. She was ignoring him too. For himself he ordered the equivalent of the finest food stuffed with the second finest food. I cannot impress upon you enough how classy this guy thought he was when in fact he was a step down from white dog shit. The other lady was in the toilet when I was taking the order. She was in there for so long The Princess had to go in and check she wasn't slumped dead in a pool of her own mess from alcohol poisoning. But alpha ordered her chicken reasoning that "all women like chicken." Christ. Give me strength.

Food ordered and drinks served, I stood back and observed them from across the bar. The conversation was riveting. "What kind of cars do you own?" "I'm a size 8 but my boobs are huge!" (which they weren't, yes I checked!) "I've never been married have you?" "Do you two share a house?" "I bought my third house last week." "Yes, two gold cards actually." Now I know how the waiters in Socrates local tavern must have felt when he came into chill out at the end of a long days thinking.

More drink was ordered, more vodka and Redbull, doubles this time and another bottle of wine. Whenever the ladies got up to go to the bathroom they got their asses smacked by their gentlemen friend. Which is nice I'm sure. The Princess wandered up to join me in my observations/judging. "Sluts" she said and walked away. There is something about the way a woman says "slut" that is more cutting than when a man says it.

The food was served and surprisingly eaten too. I was sure the ladies would push their round the plate. I cleared their plates and took their sweets and coffee order. And this is when the sleaziest thing happened. The lead alpha dog ordered coffees for the two ladies saying, "I'm ordering you coffee so that you cant say I got you drunk." The implication being that he knew they might end up doing something they later regretted and he wanted absolved of any guilt in advance. You dirty sleazy bastard. I brought their coffees which was pointless as they ordered a round of Irish coffees as well.

The restaurant was closing when I asked them if the wanted anything else. "No Manuel, there is only one more thing I need tonight" said alpha dick. This caused the ladies to giggle and sent a cold shudder down my back. The thought of him having his "need" fulfilled was horrific in the extreme. But one of the ladies wasn't finished "Champagne! We need champagne!" Alpha couldn't say no. I could, but he couldn't. So it was through very grated teeth that I said, "Yes madam." Champagne served and champagne finished, in about ten minutes too. Someone really wanted to get his corked popped at home. I dropped the big fat bill down. They paid and tipped well too I may add. And of they popped.

Now where is the bit that made you happy I hear you ask? Well as I was leaving to go home I spotted the two lads but the ladies were no where to be seen. The two men looked a whole lot less alpha without their two escorts. In fact they look crestfallen. What had gone so dramatically wrong? The two men slumped into the back of a taxi and with that the two ladies came back round the corner with two completely new and bigger alpha dogs. And that, ladies and gentlemen, made me very happy, very happy indeed.

And anyway the other man was wearing sandals with his pin stripes. Sandals? What the fuck?

Back in the "Real" World-The story of MrsMcGinBreath

Truth is stranger than fiction. Well maybe not stranger but definetly more annoying. Some events you just can't make up....

The McGinBreath Family....

Escape is futile and lying is even more pointless

Last Wednesday night was busy despite having few bookings at the start of the evening. Before long I found myself bollocks deep in concert goers, metaphorically speaking of course. Don McClean doesn't attract a young and sexy crowd. But for the most part it was a good crowd. I even got the manager to put that God awful "American Pie" song on, twice. I suggested he fill the rest of the playlist with Neil Diamond, Cat Stevens, and various others from the painfully dull section of the Juke Box. Actually I quite like Neil Diamond and his songs of cheap Canadian wine.

As I reached the point were I could take no more, new customers that is the music was just a blur, I started advising new, unreserved, customers that there would be an hours wait for a table. I had the room to take new customers but not the time, hands, or will to do so. Am I not human? If you cut me do I not bleed? I was up to my ample man breasts in tables and I could handle no more. I greeted new customers with a

"I'MSORRYWEAREFULLYOUCANGETATABLEINANHOUROKAY?
YOUWANNATABLEINANHOUR?"

It was said just like that, fast, no stopping for breath, no room for idle chit chat, no opportunity for supplementary questions. If you are ever faced with a waiter like that just turn and walk away. No good can come from staying, and for the love of Jesus don't try and engage him in conversation. Don't ask him to recommend somewhere else. Don't try and appeal to him. As most were going to the concert most took the hint and headed off without complaint. Who goes for dinner an hour before a concert starts? And what kind of concert starts at 8pm any way? A couple of people made reservations for later in the evening including a table of seven from Bulgaria. This had me humming the theme tune to the Wombles for the rest of the night (invented recycling you know).

Most people declined my offer of a "TABLEINANHOUROKAY". So I was rather surprised to see a young woman return with another older woman 20 minutes after we had the "I'MSORRYWEAREFULLYOUCANGETATABLEINANHOUROKAY?" conversation. Surprised because she indicated that she didn't wantatableinanhourokay. The older woman took charge of the negotiations.

"Is our table ready yet?"

"Table madam?" You have a table booked madam? I did my pretend to look for a booking I know isn't there skit.

"Yes we have a booking in the name of Slovenly McGinBreath."

"I'm not sure you do madam...." I produced my star witness at this point, Mrs McGinBreath's own daughter.....

"Actually mum I didn't book a table earlier it was too busy." Said young McGinBreath

"YES you did." She stared at her daughter with very wide eyes.

"Madam I can assure you that you do not have a reservation this evening but if you would like to make a reservation I could have a table ready for you in about 40 minutes." I was getting stroppy. I had the Wombles in my head, an arm full of plates, and 2 sections full of customers wondering were the devilishly handsome waiter had disappeared to. I didn't have time to play "Yes I did. No you didn't" with Mrs Slovenly McGinBreath.

She didn't respond

She just stared at me

For about 30 seconds she just stared at me

I think she was trying to intimidate me or something. Wasted....actually I'm starting to think she was wasted.

"Well? Do-you-want-a-table?"

"Yes we do. And write it down this time."

I should have walked away but no I couldn't let it go. "Madam you didn't have a booking the first time. Now you have a booking."

She stared again.

Then said, "Well write it down."

"No"

"Write it down"

"No"

'Write it down, I don't want you forgetting again."

"I didn't forget something that didn't happen. Now I'm not gonna write it down. I'll see you in forty minutes. And madam..."

"What?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

She stared again. But shuffled off. I was seething. Lying is bad but trying to say that I forgot is just fucking insulting.

The early diners departed and I had a pocket full of golden and folding thank you's. And right on queue Mrs Slovenly McGinBreath reappeared with a sheepish/embarrased looking daughter in tow. I showed them to their table and recited the soup and specials. I was EXTRA SUPER DUPER LOVELY NICE MAN. Killing with kindness is a particular favourite of mine. I fixed their drinks, wine spritzer for the young McGinBreath and vodka and coke for the ma. Which was a surprise. I took their order, chicken and steak, well done. Game over for me at this point. Young McGinBreath handed me her menu, I thanked her but mummy McGinBreath wasn't done with the games. She wouldn't let go of the menu. She just stared and smiled at me.

"If I could have your menu madam."

"Are we annoying you? Are we torturing you?"

"If I can just have your menu madam I can get your order placed." And at that I snapped the menu from her grip.

"Cunt" I muttered as I walked away from the table out of earshot of said cunt.

Food was served, in silence. Plates were cleared with the minimum of fuss or questioning, just enough to discover that the food was good and that they didn't want sweets. I left them to it. After a further ten minutes or so young McGinBreath left the restaurant with her bag and coat. I assumed she was going for a smoke. Mummy McGinBreath was on her mobile phone. Five more minutes past when Mrs Slovenly McGinBreath attempted to make her way out of the restaurant. Fucking what? Not on my shift Mrs...

"Uhum uhum excuse me, if I could just get you to settle your bill before you go."

"I was just going for a smoke."

"That's great. You'll enjoy it more once you settle the bill."

"How much is it." She snapped. At this point I noticed the taxi parked out front. The taxi that McGinBreath the younger was sitting in. The sneaky, lying, trying to stiff the waiter bastard. She settled the bill and left me 85p. Which was nice. So word to the wise if a Mrs McGinBreath says she has a reservation in your restaurant tell her to get to fuck out and slam the door on her.

The bare faced cheek...

The Waiter - Episode 1 Part 2 - I don't want to to set the world on fire.

It's 11.42pm and all is not well at Chateau Manuel sur L'Lagan. The restaurant has been closed for nearly two hours, one trainee has been arrested, another 2 have been involved in a knife fight, the great mahogany doors are off their hinges, and Manuel has locked himself in his office and hasn't spoken since the police left. The remaining trainees are gathered at the restaurant bar fixing themselves cocktails. There is a tense atmosphere. Old Fnudsen seems to be the only person in a good mood, in fact you could say he has a spring in his step as he skips round the bar making drinks for the rest whilst whistling the Ink Spots, "I don't want to to set the world on fire."

Lunch service went well considering it was their first service. Mauve and Phatty made a considerable amount in tips. This was helped by Mauve deciding that it would be fortuitous to pull a button off her shirt revealing more of her ample cleavage than had been previously viewable. Phatty did likewise. Old Fnudsen was egging them on. There was a good rapport amongst the group and the nerves from earlier seemed to dissipate as the customers arrived. So how did a day that started with so much promise end up in, what can only be described as, chaos? Let's see...

7.01pm The doors had just opened as the first dinner guest arrived, a table for 1, Ms Savannah Sunrise-Moon. Ms Sunrise-Moon is an old friend of Manuel and more importantly a journalist and restaurant critic. Her love of the cutting remark is matched only by her love of younger men. Cletus showed her to her table,

"Now, there you go Mrs Mooney, there's your table. You wan something til drink?" Cletus was trying to sound relaxed and professional but nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

"Well sugar pie aren't you a big boy?" Purred Ms Sunrise Moon as she took in all 6ft 4 of him. Her Southern drawl lingering on the word big. "It's Sunrise-Moon but I'll allow you one discretion, maybe two, we'll see how you go. I'll have a Tom Collins with lime and plenty of ice." She ran her hand down Cletus' as he past her the menu. This freaked the big fella out. Cletus isn't used to women being in control, most country boys aren't. Shelley fixed the Tom Collins for Savannah whilst Cletus made an attempt at reading her the specials. The langoustines being a particular problem for him.

"Lang gus tweeeens, lang lusty teens, ....Shelly, what's them there big prawns called?" spluttered Cletus. Shelly arrived with the drink. "Today's special, Ms Sunrise-Moon, is Tagliatelles aux langoustines." And with that she coughed and backed away from the table muttering about needing a smoke "real bad... dumb bloody oaf"

"Aye" said Cletus "Langoustines wi pasta. It's quare n lovely too. But sure you have a look and I'll be back in minute."

It is fortuitous for Cletus that he is popular with the ladies as Ms Savannah-Moon would normally have ripped a waiter apart for a performance like that. The waiters at a well known Parisian restaurant walked out after she threatened one with a bread knife during a Sunday lunch for not putting enough ice in her Tom Collins.

Meanwhile, the restaurant was filling up. Manuel was flitting in an effortless manner between tables, both to welcome the guests and to check on the trainees. Old Fnudsen and Donardtje were coping admirably with their table from the Woman in Business Guild. Although it seemed as though they had switched roles and Donardtje was now taking the orders and Old Fnudsen was his busser. Manuel moved in to see what was happening.

"Ach the young fella wanted to have a go. Y'know what these lads are like with something new. Look at him, he's like a dog with two..." Manuel cut him off before he could finish his crude analogy.

"Fnudsen..." said Manuel trying not lose his composure, "...did I ask you to wait or did I ask you to buss?

"Ach your gonna get all cunty on me aren't yi? huffed Old Fnudsen.

"Here, Dutchy gi me that pen. El Duce wants me to do it. Sorry lad you'll have to wait your turn. Except you can't can you....wait that is." Fnudsen snapped the pen out of Donardtje' hand and made for the table of ladies. Donardtje looked forlorn.

"But but but that's my pen, it was a gift form the supermarket staff."

As Manuel made his way round the restaurant he noticed the ever perky Mauve sitting on a man's lap as he bounced his way through a version of the Canadian National Anthem. Mauve giggled as she clung to the man with one arm round his neck. Manuel wasn't impressed and neither was the over worked Phatty.

The giggling stopped as soon as she caught sight of Manuel glaring at her. She jumped off the man's lap, straightened herself, and started to top up the water glasses. Phatty meanwhile was getting stressed as she was trying to do everything on her own.

"Excuse me gentlemen, if I may have a word with young Mauve for a moment." interrupted Manuel.

"Sir, Manuel, sorry, I meant Manuel. I know I shouldn't call you sir cause you said not to. I was just ..."

"Stop talking."

"I was just, you see that man ...."

"Stop talking."

"I can see what you were just doing Miss Mauve. We don't do lap dances at the Chateau Manuel Sur L'Lagan. We do great food and wine with great service. We do not do lap dances. Is that clear?"

"I wasn't.... he was...national anthem"

"Is that clear Miss Mauve?"

"Yes Sir, sorry Manuel, Yes Manuel."

"Good, now if it's not too much trouble, could you please help Phatty. You remember Phatty don't you?"

A rather sheepish looking Mauve headed off to seek her swamped partner.

"Ah now Mrs oi'm nat your waiter o'il foind d'big fella for ya?" Shimmie had attracted the attention of Ms Savannah Sunrise-Moon. She over heard his Irish brogue and just had to have him, at her table that is.

"It Ms Sunrise-Moon now young man."

"Ah righto Ms."

"HEY SHIMMIE, AM I DOING THIS ALL ON MY OWN? GET YOUR SWEATY ASS OVER HERE."

Manuel was beside himself with anger when he heard UW shouting across the restaurant. He couldn't get to her quick enough. He caught her eye and montioned for her to meet him out the back. Manuel has been a bit intimidated by Unidentified Wrestler since she picked him up and held him above her head on their first meeting.

"Ah Wrestler, if I could ask a little favour from you."

"SHOOT BIG GUY, WHATCHA NEED?"

"Yes....if you could try and lower your voice a bit that would be just great. I like a loud woman, I really do but some of our customers may not appreciate it just as much as I do."

"INSIDE VOICE? NO PROBS BIG GUY!"

"Sorry, inside voice it is boss."

"Thanks, Wrestler." Manuel skirted out in front of her in case she tried to lift him again. Manuel stopped at the bar and surveyed the bustling restaurant. The waiters and bussers were busy. The customers were eating, drinking and laughing. Manuel felt almost relaxed. Almost. Something was wrong, someone missing. Manuel counted heads, Phatty and Mauve check. Old Fnudsen and Donardtje check. Wrestler check. Shelly check. No Shimmie and no Cletus. Before Manuel could could play his part in this adult game of hide and seek he felt his bottom being pinched.

"Now sweetheart why do you look so angry all the time? Come and have a Tom Collins with me?" Savannah had captured Manuel as he was just about to start fretting. The fact that two of his waiters were last seen in the company of MS Savannah Sunrise-moon sent a shiver down his back.

"Savannah darling if I had the time I would sit with you all night and drink until dawn. But alas I have a restaurant to run."

"Shucks it's a dogs life for you petal isn't it?"

"Indeed. Eh you didn't happen to bump into two of my waiters did you?"

"Moi? I've no idea!"

At this point a young kitchen porter, Gordon, came rushing out of the kitchen.

"Manuel! Manuel! You have to come quick the waiters have gone fucking mad!"

"What? Jesus!" Manuel knew immediately what had happened. He had seen it before, Ms Sunrise-Moon has an effect on men, "The Darkside of the Moon" thought Manuel. In France it's called the "la femme du soleil foncé." Savannah, for fun, picks two male waiters, flirts with them, and then pits them against each other to see who will take her home. It's all just a game for her amusement. She always goes home by herself with more than a hint of a cheeky smile too.

By the time Manuel had made his way into the kitchen Cletus and Shimmie were facing each other with the chefs carving knives. The chefs were in a lather. They had given up on cooking and were hanging off every viewing point to see the two waiters squaring up to each other.

"She's in my section you skinny, sweaty bollocks." Roared Cletus

"She says oi'm her lucky charm yi fucking oaf." Countered Shimmie and at that Cletus lunged at him with narrowly missing his left arm.

"FOR FUCKS SAKE WHAT IS GOING ON?" Manuel was between the duelling waiters. He became very aware of this as they continued jabbing at each other both verbally and literally.

"Lads it's just a game, honestly she does it all the time.....'

"BOLLOCKS!" they replied in unison.

By now there was a gaggle of waiters and bussers standing watching the stand off from the door of the kitchen. Manuel was losing control of his restaurant, and he knew it.

"GET ME THE MANAGER! WHERE IS HE? I'VE NEVER BEEN SO HUMILIATED IN ALL MY LIFE. THAT, THAT MAN IS OOHH I'M GOIN TO FAAAAIINNT....."

A large woman in an impressive black cocktail dress was half way through the door to the kitchen when she fainted. Manuel was breaking out in a rash over his neck. The heat of the kitchen was causing him to sweat profusely, it was getting in his eyes. He pulled Shimmie's service cloth from his waist and dabbed the sweat from his eyes and brow.

"Hey oi got a bollicking for doin dat!"

"DON'T!" replied Manuel.

"Wrestler!"

"BOSS?"

"Deal with these two!"

"YES BOSS! COME TO MAMA!" Wrestler swapped position with Manuel and beckoned the two waiters to her. They squealed in pain as she grabbed them both at the same time. Most of the chefs winced too.

Phatty and Mauve had taken their aprons off and had propped them under the head of the fainted lady. Manuel ordered the kitchen to be cleared. "Suits me? Pub anyone?" said the head chef. And with that the whole brigade marched out.

"What the fuck happened here? Who is she? What is going on?"

"Let me answer tha fer yi." The only man smiling was Old Fnudsen who seemed to be revelling in the chaos.

"WELL? WHAT HAPPENED?" Manuel was fanning the lady with a menu whilst trying to focus on Old Fnudsen's smiling face, the sweat was stinging his eyes.

"Billy Bunter's sista..." Phatty stifled a laugh "...ach she was bein a right pain. Get me this, get me tha, wipe me arse. All tha shite. What she needs is less pie not more. Ach she was doin heads in."

"SO WHAT DID YOU DO FNUDSEN?"

"Nae me El Duce, nae me." The smiling Fnudsen motioned towards the restaurant.

"Sweet Jesus WHAT NOW?! Phatty, Mauve keep an eye on her, get her some water or brandy, or bloody anything. Wrestler you got "Stabby" and "Lurch" under control?"

"NO DOUBT BOSS!" replied Unidentified Wrestler. She looked all at home as she sat on top of the two waiters.

Manuel jumped up and made for the restaurant as he brushed past Old Fnudsen his trainee whispered "Nae so calm now are ye, oh yi wan me til wipe your brow?"

Manuel just glared at the smiling Scot. He stepped into the restaurant to witness a scene that would have been fitting in a Mel Brook's film. Four of the women from the Women in Business Guild reservation were sitting on top of a crying Donardtje. Another stood above him shouting into a mobile phone. Other guests were gathered round the table all trying to get a view at the chaos. From a table nearby came a shout of, "WHAT IS A WOMAN TO DO TO GET A DRINK ROUND HERE?"

Savannah Sunrise-Moon seemed oblivious to the situation which she was partly to blame. Manuel gathered what trainees he could, well those who weren't occupied with collapsed lady's, being sat on, or sitting on others and gave out instructions. The restaurant was to be cleared, starting with Ms Sunrise-Moon.

"But wha bout our tips?" asked Fnudsen.
"Fuck you tips. Just get on with it." Manuel wasn't in the mood for Fnudsen.

As the guests left there was another outbreak of anarchy, this time at the front door. Manuel's two glamourous assistants, Charlie and Emily had taken offence to something Mauve's friend from earlier (the lap dancing fan) had suggested they do with him and the lemon sorbet. They had taken it upon themselves to re-educate the man with the needs and wants of the modern woman by smashing him head first into the doors. This caused one of the doors to snap from it's hinges.

As this situation was fizzling out the police arrived and after a quick conversation with the ladies on top of the flattened Donardtje they came to see Manuel who had fixed himself a large whiskey and lit a cigarette. They told Manuel that they would have to arrest his trainee for alleged lewd and improper conduct.

"Take him, take him, whatever you want. There's a few more in the kitchen you can take too of you want......" Manuel was past caring by now. One waiter arrested. Two trying to kill each other. His glamourous assistants have assaulted a customer and busted the doors. And who the fuck is singing?

"Ah don't wannie set the world on fire..." Old Fnudsen was bellowing it out at the top of his voice. Manuel retreated to the office leaving more questions than answers. What did Donardtje do? Will Shimmie and Cletus make up? How hot is Mauve? What now for THE WAITER? Can the program survive? And will anybody really read a post this long? Find out next time on....

THE WAITER
Can you wait?

The events depicted in The Waiter are fictitious. Any similarity to any person/blogger living or dead is merely coincidental. And just for laughs."

THE WAITER: Behind the Apron airs on Friday

After The Last Supper

As it's a Sunday and all that...

Before



After

Charlie Brooker's Ten Biggest Cocks and She Cocks in Advertising

Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe is the greatest show on TV after Curb Your Enthusiasm and The Wire. There will be no further discussion on the issue, Manuel has spoken....

Quality stuff. Here are the Top Ten Biggest Cocks in Advertising from last year.

The latest Series
Episode 1 parts 1,2,3
Episode 2 parts 1,2,3
Episode 3 part 1,2,3
Episode 4 part 1,2,3

Treat yourself, go on, you deserve it.........

The Waiter - Episode 1 Part 1 -The Line Up

It was a lively night in the house with the trainees staying up until the early hours of the morning. There was some tension between Old Fnudsen and Unidentified Wrestler caused by one of her practical jokes! But more of that later. In the weeks running up to the first show the trainees went through basic individual training. We didn't want them to be completely over awed at the scale of the task in front of them......

Day One. Shift: 11-3 5 to finish (Split)
The trainees are milling about the bar of the restaurant looking like lost sheep. Some are definetly suffering from last nights excess. The restaurant floor is no place to try and conceal a hangover. It's 10.50 and the trainees have about an hour to get the restaurant set and ready for lunch service. A handsome, if rather portly man, enters the room flanked on either side by two tall attractive ladies. This causes a ripple of excitement amongst the trainees.

"Hello, good morning, and welcome to the restaurant. My name is Manuel and I am ............ THE WAITER!"

There is a subdued round of applause from the group and one shout of "Fat bastard, ach I dinnae give a fuck..." from the back of the group. Phatty and Mauve, standing on either side of Old Fnudsen, both elbow him in the ribs.

"Fucking weemen....."

"I hope you all had a good nights rest and are ready for today's service. Ladies and gentlemen this is the first day of the rest of your lives. After today you will have a new found respect for those in the service industry. For one of you today will mark the greatest moment of your life, it will be the day you took your first step to becoming THE WAITER."

Another ripple of applause and some shouts of "Hell yeah" and "Bring it on" mainly from Unidentified Wrestler and Cletus. But what Manuel has failed to notice is that one of the trainees isn't at the bar for the first briefing. Shelly isn't there! Just at that the restaurant door flings open and in comes Shelly. She has her mobile phone in one hand a packet of Marlboro Red in the other. Coughing and spluttering she tries to apologise....

"Am I late? It's only eleven now. .."

Manuel fixes her a withering look and continues with what he was saying. "As I was saying, today one of you is on the road to becoming the waiter. But also one of you will fail today and have to leave the restaurant. For you, there will be no success and no glory."

Shelly omits a nervous giggle.

"Today we have 56 booked for lunch. My assistants, Charlie and Emily, will assign your duties for lunch. [There is a shout of "weemen mmmmm" from the back of the group] Please listen to what they have to tell you and follow their instruction to the letter. Now please get dressed for lunch quickly. We will talk again before opening. Miss Shelly may I have a word with you?"

"Me?"

As the group are led to the staff changing room by Charlie and Emily a very sheepish Shelly is taken to the office by Manuel. She reappears a few minutes later looking ashen. "I need a fag."

Manuel has removed her mobile phone and cigarettes and warned her about her timekeeping. The trainees are issued their duties for set up and as they get started Manuel reappears to watch over them. At 11:50 Manuel calls them all to the bar area again. The restaurant is set and ready for open. But Manuel is not happy.

"Trainees, this restaurant was set up by Charlie and Emily! You know how to do this, we showed you already. You were all too slow and if my assistants hadn't been here we wouldn't be open. Donardtje what was keeping you? You were slow and I saw nothing that could be causing you to laugh so much?"

"Me? I was just ....." But Manuel cuts off the giggling Dutchman before he can explain that Mauve and him were just excited to be on TV.

"Miss Mauve..."

"Yes sir." Giggles the far too perky by half Mauve

"Don't call me sir, call me Manuel."

"Sorry Sir, oh I mean Manuel, Sorry Manuel."

"You don't have to apologise either, this time, you need to concentrate more on what you are doing. Less laughing, more working please Ms Mauve."

"Now trainees please line up for inspection. And put your hands out." The trainees look at each other in horror. Shelly in particular is panicking and starts to lick her fingers and is rubbing them furiously. Manuel will be checking for clean and pressed uniform, personal grooming, clean and well trimmed fingernails, and that the trainees have pens, order pad and waiter's friend. Trainees can be sent home if they fail to live up to the standards set by Manuel. He will also be assigning duties, the group will be split into four groups of 2. One waiter, one busser.

"Very good Phatty, you may head to your section you will be a waiter today. And Mauve will be your busser."

As he scrutinises the line of trainees the tension is palpable. "Mr Shimmie you are rather dishevelled looking and what is with all the sweating? Is it too hot in here for you? Would you like me to damp your brow?"

"Oi tink I may have had a few drinks too many last noight der Manuel. Sarry bout dat." Shimmie straightens himself up and tucks in his shirt and using his service cloth he dries his forehead. This doesn't go down well with Manuel.

"Mr Shimmie what is that cloth for?"

"Dis cloth?"

"Yes Mr Shimmie, that cloth?"

"Ah roight I see what you mean. Mopped me head wi it didn't I?"

"Yes you did. GET A NEW CLOTH AND GET INTO YOUR SECTION! You will be a waiter today, we shall see if you are wasting everyone's time. Unidentified Wrestler, you shall be his busser."

"AWESOME MANUEL, AWESOME! C'MON SWEATY LETS ROCK!" UW grabs Shimmie by his tie and leads him to their section.

"Mr Fnudsen how are you today? You seem very relaxed or are you finding it all a bit tough?" Fnudsen is slouched over the bar looking very nonchalant.

"Wha?"

"Stand up Mr Fnudsen and put your hands out." Fnudsen duly complies but fixes a rather psycho look on Manuel that seems to say 'I'm gonna get you.'

"Very good Old Fnudsen, now lets see if you can wait. Take Donardtje and take your section."

"See if a can wait is it? Fucking jumped up little Nazi in a waistcoat. Ah'll show you. Ah fucking take bigger shites than you me lad." Grumbles Mr Fnudsen under his breath. "Right c'mon you"

Donardtje points to himself and says in a rather nervous voice, "Me? Oh my goodness with him?" The odd couple indeed.

Manuel approaches Shelly who is quaking in her Gucci heels. "Miss Shelly those shoes are fantastic! Where they expensive? Because they really are lovely?"

"Eh yes .... I got them in Pari....." Manuel cuts her off before she can reveal her favourite shoe shop.

"Miss Shelly do you think those lovely shoes are practical for a 14 hour day in a restaurant? Do you?"

"Eh now that you say that, probably not. I'll change them on my split."

"Yes you will, yes you will. Mr Cletus! How are you today?"

"Ah now Manuel I'm just fine. The sun is shining, it's a great day."

"A great day to be out in the fields Cletus eh? Cletus have you ever heard of moisturiser? You have hands like the back of an elephant!"

"You mean the hands of a man?"

Manuel didn't like what Cletus was inferring. "Cletus you shall wait tables today. We shall see if you can do Mans Work. Take Miss Shelly and check your section."

Ladies and gentlemen. You only get one chance to make a good first impression. Please ensure that you are tidy and well groomed and free from sweat and Gucci shoes from now on."

"Righto der boss" shouts Shimmie from the back of the room. "Ah'll make an impression with my boot you fat bastard." adds Old Fnudsen.

"Please work hard. Treat your customers well. Enjoy yourselves. And make money. Remember the waiters with the lowest tips will face the public vote off. Trainees are we ready?"

"C'MON BRING IT ON!" Shouts Unidentified Wrestler. Mauve giggles, Fnudsen sighs, Phatty jogs on the spot, Donardtje takes 2 steps away from Fnudsen, Shelly bits her fingernails, Cletus grins and says, "No bother".

"Emily please open the doors". The great mahogany doors are opened, the game is on.....

THE WAITER
Can you wait?

The events depicted in The Waiter are fictitious. Any similarity to any person/blogger living or dead is merely coincidental. And just for laughs."

Old Knudsen's brother?

Another Knudsen

This is a tremendous story from Scotland. Donald "Check my hair out" Trump wants to build a couple of golf courses, hotels, and fancy resorts in Aberdeenshire. But a fisherman who own a very large lump of land in the middle of the proposed development has said "Nae a fucking chance laddy." He has to be Old Knudsen's brother...

Read the story here. Fair play to the old get. Tell Trumper to get back on a plane and feck off.

The Waiter Episode 1 - Part 2 Meet the Contestants

Eight trainees must serve it out over the next 6 weeks to see who will become THE WAITER and secure themselves a glamourous position working alongside Manuel! The trainees will have to serve interesting celebrity guests and the general public alike with style, class, professionalism and good humour under the ever watchful eye of Manuel. Cash is king and the trainees with the lowest amount of tips earned each week will be put to the public vote and lose their chance to be (pause for dramatic effect) THE WAITER! Can you wait?

Lets say "Hi Guys" to the final 4 trainees

We have been introduced to the first four lucky trainees, all desperate to become THE WAITER, now lets meet the final 4 contestants.

Trainee number 5 is called Unidentified Wrestler. She is very loud. She is very scary. She is a 26 year old female wrestler who paints beautiful landscapes for the tourists in her home town of New York. Unidentified Wrestler is the practical joker of the group and has already had the production crew in fits of laughter. "I'M A LOVER AND A FIGHTER!" Shouted the diminutive New Yorker, UW is just under 5ft tall. "YEAH I LOVE TO HEAR PEOPLE LAUGHING AT MY JOKES AND IF THEY DON'T LAUGH I PILE DRIVE THEM UNTIL THEY DO!" Laughed Unidentified Wrestler whilst pounding her fist into her hand. When not beating people or making them laugh UW loves to spend time with her 12 cats, 5 dogs, 3 lizards and her snake called Hogan. "I LOVE ANIMALS THATS WHY I'M A VEGGIE." When asked how she would cope with serving rare steak or foie gras Unidentified Wrestler became very quiet and then said, "I don't know what I'll do ....... BUT I WANNA WIN THIS THING SO C'MON BRING IT ON!" She says she wants to win "TO SHOW THE STUFFED SUITS OF THE RESTAURANT WORLD THAT THEY NEED LIVENED UP AND I'M THE WOMAN TO DO IT YEAH!"

Trainee number 6 has come from all the way from the land of dykes and canals, no not Manchester, but Holland! Donardtje is 34 years old and worked as a supermarket manager before giving it all up to try his hand at waiting. Donardtje describes himself as being, "vivacious, daring, and oh so handsome!" He feels his time working as a supermarket manager has served him well and gives him a leg up on the competition. "Well if not a leg up, it'll be a leg over. Hehehehehe. No but seriously I know what customers need and how to give it to them." Donardtje's only worry is the house he will have to share with the rest of the trainees. "I need a big bed and plenty of calming sounds and smells if I am to get a good nights sleep. If I don't get a good nights sleep I'm just a wreck for the rest of the day! Oh and don't even talk to me about sharing a bathroom. Oh my God that's going to be so difficult!" Donardtje wants to win THE WAITER because he feels the supermarket isn't glamourous enough for a man of his character. "Oh Don't! It's just so dull sometimes, all the little Dutch ladies with their funny foods it's just getting me down. I need something glamourous and exciting in my life, and not just my life!"

Trainee number 7 is a self confessed fitness freak and gingerphile from Dublin Ireland. "Oh I love a ginger I do!" says Phat Marmoset! Phat Marmoset is also 34, she is married and keeps Marmosets in her garden. She works as a Dj on hospital radio. "I do it for the old people, I love the old people. I love ginger people more but I love the old people all the same." When asked why she wanted to give up something she clearly loves to take part in a competition Phat Marmoset said "All the old people I see and talk to are nearly dead which is a bit of a bummer. So I decided to give this ago so I could meet some old people who weren't nearly dead!" Phatty, as she likes to be called, runs about 15k a day and believes this will give her the edge over the competition. "A sound body gives you a sound mind and that's what you need to win in life, well that and ginger hair." Phatty is teetotal and adheres to a strict diet. She wants to win so that she can, "Put forward the case of ginger people. And I'd love to meet an old Ginger millionaire.."

Trainee number 8 is Cletus a farm hand on his daddy's farm in the wilds of Tyrone NI. Cletus loves nothing more than a "big feed" and feels that this is good enough reason to enter a competition to become a waiter. Cletus is 22 years old and the baby of the group. He works hard and plays harder. "Sure that's what me mammy and daddy taught me on the farm." Cletus has never been in a proper restaurant but nothing seems to worry him. "Ah now it's just a place where people pay too much for fancy food and grape juice. I've calved cows at three in the morning so I can take food to a table." Cletus describes his table-side manner as being "straight and direct, no bullshit, I'll tell it as it is." Being 6ft 4 and built like a wall Cletus thinks he will be a hit with the ladies. "Ah now I'll be having a little fun with this. If the customers don't bite maybe the some of the other trainees will." Asked if he would miss the farm Cletus responded "I've a photo of daisy and my big tractor in my wallet, they are my good luck charms. Now where's the feed at?"

So there we have it people, the contestants for THE WAITER! Who will win? Only you can decide! The group are settling in for their first night together in THE WAITER house. Who will share a bed? Will they get on with each other? Will Old Fnudsen feel out of place with people much younger? Will Cletus try it on with Phatty? Find out tomorrow when we go behind the apron and peek inside THE WAITER house.......

THE WAITER
Can you wait?

The events depicted in The Waiter are fictitious. Any similarity to any person/blogger living or dead is merely coincidental. And just for laughs."

The Waiter Episode 1 Part 1 - Meet the Contestants

Eight trainees must serve it out over the next 6 weeks to see who will become THE WAITER and secure themselves a glamourous position working alongside Manuel! The trainees will have to serve interesting celebrity guests and the general public alike with style, class, professionalism and good humour under the ever watchful eye of Manuel. Cash is king and the trainees with the lowest amount of tips earned each week will be put to the public vote and lose their chance to be (pause for dramatic effect) THE WAITER! Can you wait?

Lets say "Hi Guys" to the trainees

Trainee number 1 is from the Scottish town of Killamory, he's the oldest trainee at 68 but is determined to prove that age is no barrier in the pursuit of his dream. Say hello to Old Fnudsen! Old Fnudsen says he likes serving weemen the best and relaxes to a jolly Enid Blyton book and glass of shandy at the end of his shift. Old Fnudsen retired from a distinguished career as a postman 3 years ago and is keen to get back into work again. When asked what he would be bringing to the table in terms of skills Old Fnudsen replied, "Skills? What fucking skills do you need to be a tray jockey......is this deal or no deal....where am I?" Old Fnudsen wants to become THE WAITER because, "If that fat bastard Manuel can do it ah can do it too."

Trainee number 2 is Mauve from Canuksville Canada. She wouldn't give us her age, "It's a girls secret." she giggled. Mauve worked in her local cinema before coming on the waiter. "I got to keep lots of posters for my bedroom, you want some?" Mauve lists her favourite past times as watching soaps, reading celebrity magazines, and doing her hair. "I look like Goldilocks eh?" When asked who her favourite author is Mauve replied "I don't really read much, does the TV Guide have an author, I like that!" And then giggled again. We asked Mauve what unique skills she had that would set her apart from the rest of the trainees she said, "I'm just a really really bubbly person, I'm always happy, and I'm just gonna try my best and make everybody back in Canuksville proud of me....eh." Mauve wants to become THE WAITER because, "I want to meet lots of lovely interesting and attractive people."

Trainee number 3 is Shimmie from Dublin Ireland. Shimmie is 28 and married with 7 kids, all girls, all called Worf. When we asked Shimmie about this he said, "Ah der Manuel your nat d'first person to ask me dat. We just really loiked dat name and decided to give it to all d'girls. Ah dey all love it dey do." Shimmie worked at a pharmaceutical plant before leaving to try his luck on THE WAITER. "Yeah der Manuel, I loiked it in d'factory but I always thought it was having an effect on me virility. Oi mean 7 kids in 4 years is a bit much. D'woife is knackered. But it's gas craic in d'factory, a great bunch of lads, hello Seamie, hello Sean!" Shimmie says he has great organisational skills and can do 10 things at once. "Wi 7 kids you have to be able to multi task. You jus have to!" Shimmie wants to become THE WAITER, "Just to get away from the kids for a few weeks, they are getting me down....."

Trainee number 4 is Shelly from Belfast NI. Shelly is 38 and single, "I don't need a man to be happy." Shelly has been running her own import/export business for the last ten years but "I Want a new challenge. I need to be challenged all the time or I will stagnate." Shelly loves to smoke and has reacted badly to being told that she cant smoke at the restaurant. "What the fucking fuck is that all about?" she screamed at the young production assistant. "Get me the fucking contract, and a lighter." It took an hour to calm Shelly down and the production crew have constructed her a special smoking shelter outside. "Shelly gets what Shelly wants" coughed Shelly through a cloud of smoke. "I will win this competition, I'm a successful, driven independent woman." When asked why people will favour her over the other trainees Shelly said, "I have a positive energy and Gucci shoes hahahahaha."

That's the first four contestants revealed. Lets have a look at where the trainees will be living whilst competing in THE WAITER. In order for the trainees to fully understand the pressures of the modern waiter we have recreated the exact living conditions as well as working conditions. The trainees will share a house, but not an ordinary house! Behind the walls, windows, and pictures we have installed cameras to record their every moment when they are not at work. There are 4 bedrooms, and only 6 beds. Someone needs to make friends with another trainee or they will be sleeping on the sofa, the busted sofa. The cooker doesn't work properly and the heating is on the blink. There is no cable TV service and the phone has been disconnected. The rules of the house are fairly simple and will be revealed as the weeks go along. But the house must be kept tidy at all times. The psychological well being of the trainees is important too and there is a special room were they can go and talk to our trained staff who will help them with any issues they have. That room is the "Maître d' Office."

So do you think any of these trainees has what it takes to be THE WAITER? Coming up in the second part of this opening night two part special we will meet the final four trainees. We have a fitness freak, a Wrestler, a crazy Dutchman, and a farmers son......

THE WAITER

Can you wait?

The events depicted in The Waiter are fictitious. Any similarity to any person/blogger living or dead is merely coincidental. And just for laughs."

Wine Course Night, a play in 3 acts

Gaping void knows the score....

Tuesday night is Wine Course Night. The Glorious leader asked The Princess and I if we fancied doing it alongside himself and his brother. I am always open to new things (HA!-LMM) so I jumped at the chance. The course runs every Tuesday night for 8 weeks, there are 5 weeks left. It sucks the big one that it is on my night off. But one must suffer for one's art. And suffering I am. The class only lasts 2 hours but the night itself lasts much much longer. Wine Course Night is a play in three acts.

Act I, "I don't want to fucking go", takes place in the hours before the class actually starts and lasts for about two to three hours. There is a lot of stamping of feet, huffing and generally acting like a 2 year old. I usually calm down and remember I am 34 and not 4 by the time I get to the college. I chain smoke 3 or 4 cigarettes and make my way inside. Thus beginning the main act...

Act II, "Sir Sir I know I know ask me!" subtitled "I ask questions I already know the answer to." Apart from when I am sleeping this is the quietest I am all week. Honestly you hardly get a peep out of me. I've put this new found reserve down to the fact that I can't get a bloody word in even if I wanted to, which I don't. It turns out I actually know very little about wine. Well nothing in comparison to the room full of Oz Clarkes I'm doing the class with. So I have decided to come clean with a terrible dark secret that haunts me every time I tie my apron on. My name is MANUEL AND I AM A BLUFFER - A WINE BLUFFER. It's never ever been a problem though. A quick wit coupled with a confident and amusing table-side manner gets me through most situations. I can wax lyrical about the wine on my wine list at work. I can make good and confident recommendations based on the food ordered and the tastes of the customer. Which is great. But if some smart ass hits me with a lot of follow up questions and some of their own wine knowledge I am in danger of being outed for the fraud I am. That's why I am doing a wine course!

But why some of the rest of them are doing it is beyond me. There are two chaps in particular who are clearly trying to out do each other. If one makes a point about the history of viticulture in Argentina the other will counter with an even duller point about the history of viticulture in China and on it goes. If they aren't busy contradicting each other they do their best to contradict the lecturer. Gets on my tits. Honestly they ask questions they already know the answer to just so that they can follow up with their own startling fact.

The class itself is good though despite the Johnny-suck-ups. But I'm sure the smokes have messed with my taste and smell sensations. For example last week whilst tasting Pinot Noir the lecturer suggested that the wine had an aroma reminiscent of over ripe vegetables. There was lots of nodding of heads and a couple of cries of "rotting cabbage" and people looking smug as they could smell it too. I wasn't getting it at all. To me it smelled of eh um er wine. Crikey. I got more out of the class this week but some people are gonna have to shut the fuck up or else face my wrath. My wine wrath that is, it's nothing really to be scared of. By the end of the class I am ready for a nap. Wine has that effect on me...

Act III, "Headache tablet, water, pizza, nap", this must happen within minutes of getting home or there will be tears, my tears. A couple of glasses of wine is enough to give me a sore head. A sore head leads to grumpiness. Grumpiness leads to falling out with Little Miss Manuel and we cant be having that. It also makes me sleepy. I would be fine if I just carried on drinking, it's the stopping that's the problem. But I would only wake up at 4am surrounded by empty wine bottles, vomit, next doors cat, and a policeman prodding (no pun intended (you'll only get that if you are from N.Ireland)) me with his truncheon. And nobody wants that especially next doors cat.

I bloody hope I pass this course and I bloody hope I don't kill someone trying. But stay tuned for more from the the play that is Wine Course Night. Wonder what happens if you get detention....

Music to make love to your sister to and other things

Not just killing time

Two posts in the same day? What's that all about? Actually I'm killing time until I have to go to my night class. I'm doing a wine course, but more on that later. So until then may I recommend some stuff.....

Food. Stuff like chilli sauce from a fantastic company called Facing Heaven. They had a stall at Chillifest in Belfast a few weeks ago. Whilst everyone else I was with was off searching for the absolutely hottest ball busting sauces they could find I was intrigued by the different flavours available from these guys. Chilli is so macho it's not true. Some were sweet, some tangy, some hot, but all were great. I bought the Habanero Sauce as well as the Naga Morresh Sauce. If you like a great chilli sauce I recommend these people. The waiter approves...

Music. I like a very wide range of music, from hipity hop to Folk I'm into it all. Bluegrass has been growing on me over the last years and The Earl Brothers in particular. If you click the link to The Earl Brothers MySpace select the track called Hard Times.... It's grass chewingly brilliant. Music to make love to your sister to. Get it listened to.

Notepads. I have a thing for nice writing pads. I use Semikolon books, well I did until I discovered RHODIA notepads. There is just something about them. They are just really nice pads to write on. It's just a pity all I do is scribble lists of people I want to kick in the balls and what my favourite colours are and other humdrum nonsense. Looking for a pad? Get a Rhodia pad, God bless the French.....

Hoodies. The good people at Threadless are having a hoody sale which finishes at 12am CST. If you need a fashionable hoody for the teenager in you or your life then Threadless is the place to go. DISCLAIMER, I get a small reward for any sales referred through this link. So get them bought.......hehehehehe. But I have to say as the owner of some Threadless Shirts I can recommend them for quality and design. Lovely stuff, get that filthy rag off and get one of these on...And if you like the shirts then you should decorate your walls with their designs too. Check these decals from BLIK. I love these....

Blog. So many good blogs recently. But this one stuck in my mind. I was sent the link to it today from Toast. The Airport Diaries is written by a now former Manchester Airport worker. It's a great read. Visit and cheer him up....

All get the much coveted WellDoneFillet Seal of Approval...