Rules....

It's Saturday night at about 8pm

(It's not really for anyone who is reading this whilst drunk, you know who you are, I'm just setting the scene.)

A very attractive woman and her marginally attractive friend have just been seated.

Enter Manuel, a waiter.....

(not very attractive but happy in his own skin)you cant see me
hee hee hee

"Hello ladies, can I get you some drinks?"

"Two glasses of Chardonnay please" replied the marginally attractive woman

"And what will you have?" asked Manuel as he turned to the very attractive woman.

Confusion gave way to laughter.

Oh Manuel you cad....

It was at this point that Manuel remembered that he had served the very attractive lady more than a few times recently. You would think he would have remembered this seeing as she was so attractive. But his memory is pish poor, rock n roll and television probably the culprits.

"So..." asked Manuel "...don't you normally dine with a young man?" Manuel remembered him very clearly, shitty tipper, very shitty tipper.

"Oh he's gone!" She seemed very pleased to announce this, the marginally attractive lady seemed pleased too. There was laughter.

Manuel could have left it there. He could have gone and got them their wine. He could have gone and checked on the ugly people on table 19. He could have but he didn't.....

"Really? Good work. Never really liked him. You could do so much better." Said Manuel with the enthusiasm of a parent whose 17 year old daughter has just split up with her 29 year old unemployed boyfriend.

There was a moments silence.

Oh shit.

A Mexican stand off followed....

Manuel stared at the very attractive lady.

She stared at the marginally attractive lady.

The marginally attractive lady stared at Manuel.

"Yeah, he's gone to England for the weekend."

BALLS, DOUBLE BALLS, DOUBLE BALLS IN A VICE BEING SQUEEZED

"Right...so..eh.....I'l get your wine then......"

I spent the rest of the meal playing hide and seek with this table of two attractive ladies. They were very sweet to me for the rest of the meal and left a very generous tip. Still, her bloke's a shitty tipper and that's that.

There is a rule that you don't mention the guest's previous visit, unless you are very confident that it's the same people from last time. It's to protect the guilty. This is a very good rule, and one that I will be adhering to from now on.......

Eet as cow sheets in it....!

a Ballygowan cow
hard at work

"Ave you got a boittle of Deeeep Rivyer Rock water?" Asked the scruffy French man.

"Yeah why not" I replied.

This table had me stressed out already and they hadn't even ordered yet. It was a six top, 5 Russians and the scruffy Frenchman. Four of the Russians had been there for about twenty minutes before the Frenchman arrived. The problem was none of the Russians could speak English. This was clear when I asked them if they would like a drink. The just replied with blank stares. I gave them the international sign for drink, cupped hand to mouth, and to see their little faces light up was a joy. I say "little" but these guys looked like ex-army, shoulders you could tap dance on and fists like shovels.

"Forbish" said the leader of the Russians

"Forbish?" Now I wore the look of puzzlement.

"Bish, forbish" he explained. "Visky, Bish visky!"

"Ahhhhhhh, BUSHMILLS whiskey?" We were getting somewhere.

I should add a Russian to English dictionary to my bag list. I served their Bish Visky and left them alone hoping someone who could speak English would be joining them.

It didn't get any easier with the rest of my tables. I had a table of 6 French tourists and a 7 top who could have been the crew of a Benetton advert such was the diversity of their make up. All the locals must have been manning the sandbags.

I digress.

The scruffy Frenchman arrived along with another Russian, much to the relief of both me and the Viskied up Russians. There was much slapping of backs and hugging. The Frenchman took over.

So now we are back to the start of the story again.

"Ave you got a boittle of Deeeep Rivyer Rock water?"

I said yes, knowing fine rightly we serve Ballygowan mineral water. But waters water eh? And what was Pepe Le Pew to know! So off I popped to retrieve their waters. But as soon as I returned to the table Pepe got upset with my choice of water.

"Sir, what ess thesse? You ave no Deeep Rivyer Rock water? Eet ees the best no?"

I was getting a bit pissed off. If they were gonna get picky about the brand of mineral water we serve then it didn't auger well for the rest of the meal.

"Would you prefer that I take the water away? Maybe you would prefer some tap water? I enquired with "genuine" sincerity.

"No, no eet will do. You should serve Deeep Rivyer Rock water. Eet is much superior to dis water."

Christ, just what I need, a mineral water expert.

"Look at theese" he said pointing out the label. "Theese numbers mean eet is full of cow sheets."

"Really sir, cow sheets?" I was really hanging on to life by this point. I wanted to scream "IT'S FUCKING WATER YOU DICK!" But instead countered with a tirade against Deep River Rock and it's producer, the wonderful Coca-Cola company. I gave them chapter and verse about the whole Dasani affair and how dodgy Coca-Cola are. I really went for it. Pepe wasn't having it though and kept shaking his head saying,

"But Deeep Rivyer Rock water has no cow sheets in it!"

I served and poured their water and managed to excuse myself from the table. The rest of the meal went without a hitch. The Russians ordered more whiskey and Pepe had more cow poo infested water. We laughed about it! But Pepe wouldn't let it go.

After a while they asked for the bill, they paid and left leaving no tip. Fuck you, I thought to myself, it was only bloody mineral water. I went down to the table to see if they had left anything there. There was no cash, instead I found a business card for Pepe Le Pew. A business card for, wait for it, Coca-Bloody-Cola.

MERDE as the French might say.

all the planning in the world
couldn't prevent this case of foot in mouth