Australians...
Pensioners eh?
Don't want to talk about it...
...still too raw man...
...too raw.
Don't want to talk about it...
...still too raw man...
...too raw.
But in other news...
fat handed twat...
fat handed twat...I posted a short piece about Australians on Wednesday, "Lovely people, great guests, pishy tippers."
Well guess what?
Yup...
...that's right I had nearly forty booked for dinner tonight.
It was a tale of two tables. One arrived on time, kept themselves to themselves, ordered well and kept the drinking to the minimum. They left after exactly two hours having paid the bill and service charge without complaint. The other table were, how shall I put this, they were different......
To start they kept phoning and changing their numbers , this caused to me to change and reset the table 3 times. First it was 20 then 25 then 19 then 25 again. I loved having to do that! I mean who wouldn't want to have to do the same thing 3 times over again inside an hour? Then they were going to be about 15 minutes late then it was half an hour.
They eventually arrived 2 full hours late. I was catatonic. Is that too strong a word? I don't think so. I was actually sent for a smoke at one point to calm down. It didn't work neither did the one I had straight after that. In they sauntered as if all was well in the world, little groups of two and three at a time. I could barely utter a pleasant word. This would be swift and free from my usual chat and jokey persona. Eat pay tip leave.......now!
I explained to them that they were two hours late and that the restaurant was closing soon. I explained to them that children were not permitted in the restaurant after 9pm, we were well past that at this point. I made the point that all was not well in my world. They didn't seem to care.
"Oh no worries mate, we'll be right." He said in that relaxed and life is easy sort of way.
"We'll be right?"
"We'll be fucking right?"
The fuck did that mean?
I got their food order, rang it in, and went back for the wine order. I was in a darker mood than Tim Burton on a bad day. Seriously I must have been like having Leonard Cohen as your waiter. One chap wanted to take care of the wine order, two Beaujolais and two Ned to start. He told me to keep it coming and then a strange thing happened. With one magnificent move my mood was lifted. I was transformed. I was sweetness and light.
There is nothing and I mean nothing like getting a fifty stuffed into your hand to perk you right up. He owned me now, I knew it, he knew it, and I didn't care. They ate and drank and drank and drank until there was nothing left to eat or drink. They settled the bill with service included and tip on top.
So with that in mind.....
A is for...
...Australians. Lovely people, great guests, no idea about timekeeping, fantastic tippers and will always be served by Manuel.
Well guess what?
Yup...
...that's right I had nearly forty booked for dinner tonight.
It was a tale of two tables. One arrived on time, kept themselves to themselves, ordered well and kept the drinking to the minimum. They left after exactly two hours having paid the bill and service charge without complaint. The other table were, how shall I put this, they were different......
To start they kept phoning and changing their numbers , this caused to me to change and reset the table 3 times. First it was 20 then 25 then 19 then 25 again. I loved having to do that! I mean who wouldn't want to have to do the same thing 3 times over again inside an hour? Then they were going to be about 15 minutes late then it was half an hour.
They eventually arrived 2 full hours late. I was catatonic. Is that too strong a word? I don't think so. I was actually sent for a smoke at one point to calm down. It didn't work neither did the one I had straight after that. In they sauntered as if all was well in the world, little groups of two and three at a time. I could barely utter a pleasant word. This would be swift and free from my usual chat and jokey persona. Eat pay tip leave.......now!
I explained to them that they were two hours late and that the restaurant was closing soon. I explained to them that children were not permitted in the restaurant after 9pm, we were well past that at this point. I made the point that all was not well in my world. They didn't seem to care.
"Oh no worries mate, we'll be right." He said in that relaxed and life is easy sort of way.
"We'll be right?"
"We'll be fucking right?"
The fuck did that mean?
I got their food order, rang it in, and went back for the wine order. I was in a darker mood than Tim Burton on a bad day. Seriously I must have been like having Leonard Cohen as your waiter. One chap wanted to take care of the wine order, two Beaujolais and two Ned to start. He told me to keep it coming and then a strange thing happened. With one magnificent move my mood was lifted. I was transformed. I was sweetness and light.
There is nothing and I mean nothing like getting a fifty stuffed into your hand to perk you right up. He owned me now, I knew it, he knew it, and I didn't care. They ate and drank and drank and drank until there was nothing left to eat or drink. They settled the bill with service included and tip on top.
So with that in mind.....
A is for...
...Australians. Lovely people, great guests, no idea about timekeeping, fantastic tippers and will always be served by Manuel.
14 People trying to get Manuel's attention:
Aw.
That was a classy move.
Glad they compensated you for being so rude to show up 2 hours late.
That's a fancy sort of turnabout! Good thing they made it worth your while. Had it not been for the restaurant terms being thrown about, I would have thought I was listening to my friend from college who made money as a male escort......
"He owned me. He knew it. I knew it...."
Oh Manuel..... ;-)
Dang.
I came here with all my "C" culinary terms at the ready.
For £100 do you put an apple in your mouth and serve yourself on a platter?
And think about it, it was only £2 per inconsiderate late head. I imagine in the Bank of Mac that's about enough to buy a small fairly useless piece of matching white plastic.
They're still bastards.
sweet...
Hoor hoor hoor hoor hoor, just sayin.
I like Aussies, I've only known one two faced hoor bitch spamming Aussie on-line but the rest have been great, working class attitude rough but only nasty if you are.
Jeebus manuel, hows that gimp suit fittin ya... nice and tight is it?
medbh: it was quality.....
blondie: owned for fifty quid......oh the horror
mj: hahahahahaha...
bbb: I'll be anybody's "boy" for fifty quid......I'll dance for £75.......
savannah: thank you......
old k: of I agree total hoor.....I'm coming round to out ex-convict cousins......
sheepo: chaffing a bit......slight feeling of low self esteem too......
Nice on Manuel, look forward to hearing about the pensioners, y'see yesterday was pension day, their wee Post Office accounts would have been full of lovely money for a good time out. Did they not share the love?
crispy: it was like the dawn of the dead......actually dead.....
actually dead OMG, sugar..what a line to leave just hanging there!!!! xoxox
50 quids! He must have felt bad allright - 2 hours late is inexcusable, excusable by a 50 note but still poor manners. Did they apologise?
Hahahahahahaha...fickle...you?
Awww it does my heart proud to hear you speak so reverently about we Aussies even if it did come with a 50 quid price tag. Seriously though that was effin rude of them and it would have cost them a hundred to keep me sweet :)
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