Interview with a hero....

I'm not the only waiter in the world.

Shock!

And Belfast has many many talented, good looking, fun, and generally sarcastic waiters, bar staff, and others who work on the frontline in the global war on restaurant terror hospitality industry.

So in a further attempt to get free stuff at restaurants/bars educate the masses of the joy that is serving the public I will be running a regular feature called,

"Behind the apron...with Manuel"
or something like that

If you want to take part you must work in the hospitality industry, you don't have to come from or work in Belfast, you don't even have to give me your real name or tell me where you work. Email me your details and I'll send you the questions. Just state what you do so that you get the appropriate questions. And if you are on speaking terms with a waiter, bar worker, coffee shop warrior etc send them my way.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll eat at home more and think twice before criticising the soup. If you have any questions you would like me to put to the guardians of the gin or the masters of the dining room or even for the people who make coffee and milk into £3.00 cups of frothy heaven then leave them below.

Badges for all published interviews

**********

In other sadder news Belfast's Ginger Gerry Glennon has past away after a spell in hospital. Ginger Gerry was a stalwart of the streets, where he lived. Gerry terrorised many a bar and restaurant just with his presence alone. He wore a huge ginger beard in which he kept most of his lunch and probably a bird or two. There wasn't a barman in the city who hasn't had the dubious pleasure of chucking him out at some point, normally before he could even get a word out. Gerry was a workout for all the senses what with the ginger masterpiece under his nose, his fantastic collection of hats (he took to a snazzy Panama hat during the summer), and the smell of someone who lived on the streets.

Gerry was a pain in the ass, there is no getting away from that fact. But he was a character with it. As street drinkers go Gerry was ok, sort of. He could make you laugh, just as long as you weren't the subject of his affection. My last run in with Gerry was last year when he stumbled in early one Sunday morning. Managers ran to get surgical gloves and a barge pole whilst I tempted him out the door with cigarettes. Gerry knew how to play the game, and he played it like a champion. He also tried to stab the managers with a bread knife! If I had known it would be my last interaction with the old fella I might have let him do it too.

But he's drinking Special brew in heaven now, probably with Oliver Reed.

Any odds mate?