With apologies to Engelbert Humperdinck...

It's good to be passionate about something. It's good to care about something. I mean we need passionate people in the world to care about old buildings, and dogs, and the rights of the downtrodden indigenous peoples of the Brazilian rain forest.

Passion is a good thing.

Obsession is another thing altogether.

And obsession can easily turn into fetishism. Oh yes it can.

Those people who get their kicks by being kicked in the balls by a woman dressed only in high heels or enjoy a sunday evening dressed up as a toddler and have their partner spank them for messing themselves, they scare me. I mean really scare me. I consider myself to be fairly open minded but if your nighttime routine requires the use of a safety word and an antiseptic gel then I think you need to seek professional help.



I had one of those sorts in for dinner on Thursday night. His particular passion/fetishism?

Pee.

That's right pee.

Sorry not pee, I mean peas.

Wouldn't shut the fuckity fuck up about peas.

"And what are this evenings vegetables?" he asked in a perfectly normal way.

"Broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and courgette sir, all finished with basil aioli." I replied not for a moment knowing what was to follow.

"No peas?"

"Alas sir, there are no peas this evening." I am the master of fake empathy.

"MMMMMMM..." he said in a rather thoughtful way in the direction of his wife"......no peas Margaret."

"No peas Brian." She replied looking quite taken aback. I stood there and said nothing. I wanted to give them a moment to let this most momentous of news sink in.

"Well what you want to do then Brian?" asked Margaret

Brian paused for a moment before answering, "I appreciate you have no peas on the menu this evening but do you have any peas in the kitchen at all?"

Oh holy fuckarama, we have a live one here.

"Eh, I doubt it sir or they would be on the menu this evening."

"Could you maybe check?" he asked. They were both staring at me, not looking but staring. Really, they were creeping me the fuck out. I did go and ask chef and he replied...

"Are there fucking peas on the menu?"

"No chef."

"So why would you ask me if I have fucking peas in the kitchen?"

"I dunno chef."

"Does that answer your question?"

"Yes chef." Cunt.

"I'm sorry folks we have no peas this evening. Chef sends his apologies but does recommend tonight's selection of vegetables."

"Yes, but no peas."

"No peas."

"Have you any runner beans or fine beans?" Asked Margaret. This was getting very silly and I needed to put a stop to it before they went through the whole pea/bean family.

"The only vegetables we have this evening are the ones I have already listed. Would you like a portion of them? They are rather lovely?" Never in the history of waiting had one waiter tried so hard to sell a fucking poxy portion of fucking vegetables.

"We really wanted some peas."

"I gathered that sir." By now I had a backlog building all round the restaurant. I could feel eyes burrowing into my back.

"We really love peas."

Now what the fuck do you say to that? I mean how do you respond to such a ludicrous statement. I had a vision of their house - pea ornaments, pea tea towels, pea coloured carpet. I bet they call each other sweet pea during intimate moments.

"I don't know what to do." Said Brian. You could maybe just maybe catch a fucking grip to yourself.

"Shall we just get the veg?" Asked Margaret

"I don't know if I fancy it."

"Folks..." I was getting very irritated "...shall I just pop back in a moment?"

"No, no we'll order now."

"So what would you like?"

"Not sure, what's in the veg selection again?"

I had enough of this, "Folks I'm really rather busy, peas release me let me go"

So they ordered the mushrooms and onions instead.