When the cast of Crimewatch came for dinner
"YO! Yous do meals?"
asked the jittery young man with the figure of a ballerina and haircut like a squaddie.
Christ, thought I,
this is gonna be fun.
"Yes sir, we serve food in this restaurant(!) and we serve 3 types of steak. Do you have a table reserved this evening?" I would have eaten my own fist if he had.
"No...." he said getting a bit exasperated/confused. "What? Booked? Nah wah? Book us a table then."
"Yes sir, I think we have an opening at 5pm, is that ok?"
"Aye aye shweeeeeet."
"How many for sir?"
He counted out his chums, Anto, Banto, Sminty, Dozo, Bozo, and Brian. His eyes went a bit funny and the veins in his neck started pulsating then he shouted out "SEVEN" like he was answering a question on a quiz show.
I added his name to the already bulging booking sheet and then asked him for his phone number. He took the three phones from his pocket and took a moment to decide which number to give me. I assume some lines cant be taken up with grumpy waiters. I got a number and off he toddled. I hoped he wouldn't return with his 6 chums.
But an hour later there they were at the door, all jittery, all wearing nasty jumpers, all carrying a collection of mobile phones, and all sporting the look of a bulldog chewing a wasp.
"Where we sitting mate?" asked the leader of the gang. And I mean gang like the bloods or the crips not like west side story. But come to think of it.....
"This way mate." Mate? The cheeky bastard, I'm not his mate.
I presented the menus which was amusing. They looked at each other, looked at me, and then the lead one said, "What have yis got mate? Just tell us."
"It's all on the menu, mate." I had to walk away. They destroyed the perfectly set table within seconds. Glasses were knocked over, cutlery was shoved out of the way, and one had taken to spinning the salt cellar. I was getting very twitchy and upset. I wouldn't normally stand for this type of behavior but I'm not stupid. These lads weren't the sort to complain to a manager when there was the option of kicking me in the balls and stabbing me in the face. It was truly like serving the school bullies.
A moment or two later I returned to the table to take their order. Well done steaks all round, no sauces, and one even added a very specific caveat/warning, "I'll nat be eating a fucking bit of it if ders any fucking blood. Right?"
The rest laughed like chimps. I thought it ironic that he should be so squeamish about a bit of blood on his plate when I'm sure he is no stranger to blood on his fist. Cunt.
After a suitable wait for prime Irish Sirloin steak to be burnt to a block of cinders I served their food. I brought their ketchup, brown sauce, and mayo. I brought them their bottles of bud. I nearly brought up my Snickers bar as I stood back and watched them eat, mouths open. Food, drink, spit and other fluids spilling out and onto the table. It was shocking and disgusting. But hard not to watch.
But the moment of the day was still to come.
The burp chorus!
Each one took it in turn to burp as loud as they could, each burp greeted with a rowdy chorus of laughing and banging of fists on the table. I was beside myself. I had another table of 14 in the same section, a genteel and reserved table. I need to save their middle class ears from the horror behind them. I started jabbering about the weather and Easter holidays and anything that would focus their attention on me and not at the cavemen on the the next table. All completely pointless too.
Moments later they got the bill and left. The good thing about drug dealer types is that they are loaded in cash and they tend to throw it about like confetti. They tipped about 25%, which was nice.
But still, I could have lived without them and their burping and "yo-ing" and hands down their trousers etc.........