Be careful what you wish for.....

the music box has all the power....

Christmas eh, you get yourself all worked up and then nothing happens. No one cried, no one went mental, and no one broke any marital vows in the toilets. As Christmas service goes this was smoother than Julio Iglesias, which is pretty damn smooth. Where's my blog gold people, where? Everyone arrived on time. They enjoyed their food, they loved their wine, for God's sake they laughed at my jokes. And when the bills were presented they paid them with no hesitation, leaving generous gratuities for myself and work chums. This isn't what I signed up for!

The only problem of the day was the music system. Being a law unto itself it refused point blank to play any Christmas songs. Not so much as a Fah Lah Lah or a Bell Jingled in anger all day. Not even one rendition of my personal favourite Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses, of course. It was as if it knew it was still November and was refusing to play ball in a fit of stroppiness. Maybe it was harking back to the good old wet days of summer as it decided to play Summer Holiday by Cliff Richard, the bastard. I mean the machine, Cliff hasn't changed his name. But that would be sweet, Ol' Dirty Bastard reborn as a Christian pop singer with a penchant for tennis. As I kicked the music system for the 43rd time I began to think of it as one of those pedantic sort of people that says things like, "Good morning at 2am" or knows exactly when your Christmas tree is supposed to be taken down. So I kicked it for the 44th time. It was about this time that I gave up and put on Lovin' Spoonful's Summer in the City. What the hell, may as well play along with the onerous little bastard. I then realised I had been fiddling with the machine for 20 minutes and that table 6 would probably be wanting their turkey by now....

And there in lies my dichotomy folks. I want my Christmas sittings to go well, who needs the grief from drunk solicitors or shoe shop assistants? But at the same time I know people prefer stories of waiter woe and customer strife. Come on just admit it. I do too, it's just that I have to suffer the vein popping pain of it live, you get the recanted version. Am I actually saying I want things to go bad? Crikey, this isn't good. There are dark and mysterious forces out there, other than the chefs, that can make my nightmares come true. Oh well we all must suffer a little to entertain the masses.......

Maybe I'll spill something on purpose tomorrow, just to have something to write about. I'm a blogo-masochist, "Be rude to me sir....forget my name madam....yeah click your fingers.....ooohh I like that......"