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