Chuckie choons and kids make Manuel a very unhappy waiter

The first sitting on Saturday night was filled with children on their way to see High School Musical on Ice. Oh the joy! We don't cater very well for children and it usually has the chefs searching through the freezers for something appropriate or at least for something that can be covered in baked beans and made to look tasty. Kids can spot bullshit though and aren't afraid to say so.

"Mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy?"

WHAT?

"This burger is rubbish, it's icky"

chuckie choons
and that's the Belfast meaning of chuckie by the way...

And if you think the chefs have trouble dealing with kids then you haven't seen me with the the little darlings. I try to to that "Hewo wittle buddy" thing but it seems to come out wrong as they tend to grab their mothers arms and try and hide behind them.

"I don't like him" Said one little snot nosed brat.

Feelings mutual kiddo.

And what's with the running around and the constant touching of things they don't need to be touching? Glasses get pawed over with sticky hands, cutlery from other tables gets rearranged, whole tables are commandeered for forts and castles. Wouldn't have happened when I was a lad, you didn't leave your seat, you did even consider leaving you seat.

Thing is I cant even shout at them, too likely to go off crying or smack you back these days. I think it's the lack of power that pisses me off. It takes me a good hour or so to set up the restaurant it takes a half dozen kids smacked up on fizzy pop and sausages twenty minutes to dismantle it. And you aren't allowed to complain to the parents because their little child is an angel and they are likely to throw an even bigger strop if you say otherwise.

So whilst this fucking mayhem was ensuing the music system decided now was the time to start at it's lark again. Heavy metal wasn't good enough, nor opera, nor Jazz (and we know how much that offends people), no this time it decided that since the restaurant was full of "nice" middle class families it would play some Republican music. Whilst I was trying to negotiate my way round a table, trying not to stand on any small fingers whilst balancing 4 plates is no mean trick I can tell you, the music system switched from bland background tunes to the Ballad of Joe McDonnell. Nice. Listen to it here. Not particularly appropriate music.

Thank you music goblin for that. I couldn't get the plates down quick enough. With that sorted and "normal" order returned to the air waves I went for a smoke. I had given up on trying to protect my tables from the marauding hordes of rug rats and decided it was a futile quest. Beaten by children, not my proudest moment. But worse was still to come as the music system still hadn't had enough fun and decided it wanted to see me freak out once more and played The Broad Black Brimmer.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

But before I could even get to the stairs a body pushed past me in a blur swearing loudly. Thirty seconds later the music went dead and it stayed that way for a good hour or so. I should add that the machine is supplied by a firm from Dublin.

By 8:30 the restaurant was full of adults again, well in reality the restaurant was full of larger children as my table sucked the helium out of their friend's birthday balloons. But at least I got to shout at these ones.......