I do the jokes, you do the tipping.......

Three Croats and an African American Dwarf walk into a restaurant. Not a joke really happened, lovely people.

It was a funny night like that.

Wasn't all funny though.....

of fury......

"So now then young man you'd like us to pay the bill then I suppose." I fucking detest being called "young man" by people who are no more than 5 years older than me. I swear I thought he was going to ruffle my hair.

The ass.

"Indeed sir that would be the plan." I was weary with this guy. He had been metaphorically ruffling my hair all night. The jokes and puns were endless, the constant chatter about nothing and the questions, so many questions. In fact he stole my whole act.

"Well here's my card..." and he handed me his card and then pulled it back before I could get it. "...unless you want to give it to us for free, seeing as we are palls and all. Eh?"

Oh sweet mother of Gordon Ramsay was there no off switch for this guy? Does he fill every hour of every day with one liners and "witty" retorts. I wanted to snap the fucking card from his fucking hand but thankfully his wife did it for me.

"There you are, sorry about him..." she sounded genuine. I felt sorry for her. I bet she has to resist the urge to smother him with a pillow late at night. I bet their sex is filled with the same jokes. I'm sure he has to stop mid thrust just to let out a "fantastic" joke.

As I sped away with the credit card I could hear him defending himself, 'I was only joking with the lad, he knows that."

The lad?

The lad?

Oh I'm the lad?

I'll give you some lad. What does that even mean?

I returned to the table to process his card and managed to engage the other guests, who obviously had been unable to get a word in what with Jeffery Jokes at the table, in some light banter. This was mainly to prevent out host cracking yet another. It was only really a delaying tactic, I knew that.

"So thanks folks, I hope you enjoyed everything tonight."

They all spoke at once with lots of "thanks you's" and that sort of thing. I turned to leave...

"Now young lad..." he was heading the wrong way down fork stabber alley if he persisted with this "lad" malarky. "...you've forgotten something haven't you?"

Shit, did I still have his credit card. I've done that before. Nope, he had it in his hand.

"I don't think so sir." I was confused. I looked at the table, I looked at my hands. I couldn't think what he was on about. I realised he was off again on one of his tall tales/jokes. I mean you should have heard the story about the chicken and his car and being lost in Fermanagh. Actually that was the whole story

"Eh, what have you forgotten eh eh come on now?"

"I cant think at all sir, maybe I was supposed to get you a taxi?" Please let that be it.

"No sure I've the car, I told you that." Yes, in detail I thought.

"Jeffery, stop messing him about he's work to do." I loved his wife, patience of Job.

"Your tip!" He exclaimed.

"Ah right thank you sir."

"Which hand?" He held out his two hand, clenched in fists.

"Excuse me?"

"Which hand, one has a good tip the other an okay tip, so which hand?"

Which hand? Which fucking hand? Was this guy for real? I haven't played that since I was eight and my granny was giving me sweets. Nope, no fucking way. Not a fucking chance. Uh huh, no, no, no, no. This isn't Deal or No fucking Deal and he hasn't got a million in one of his tightly clenched paws. I'm not fucking playing. It was roughly about this time that I could feel the vein in my next popping out. Stabbing time was upon us.

"Ah no sir, you just leave whatever you feel is fair." I turned to walk away. Maybe I should roll over and let him tickle my tummy too.

"Ah now come on which hand....?"

"JEFFERY! Now stop it." Said his wife in a very firm manner. She was as mortified as I was.

"Here waiter.." I turned back round to see Mrs Jeffery trying to wrestle the money from Jeffery Jokes' hand. He wasn't gonna give it up without a fight. This was humiliating. Mainly for him but me too.

She eventually bettered him and I got my tip, which was generous but not worth the grief. I made my exit as quick as I could. But alas for Mrs Jeffery, no such exit for her, unless of course she considers the other uses for heavy pillows.

Which hand? Which fist, more like, do you want upside your head?