Sunday, January 20, 2013


"And it went wherever I did go..."

I don't give a fuck if you're gay, straight, black, white, Catholic, Protestant, short, tall, fat, skinny, wealthy, poor, political, hippy, whatever. I don't even give a fuck if you're a Manchester City supporter, as long as you don't act like a prize pillock.

Case in point, the gentleman who decided to make a spectacular scene on Friday evening. We would have nicknamed him 'Priscilla Queen Of The Desserts' if we weren't so pissed off or even if we'd thought of it at the time.
You see, dear gentle reader, it was about time to celebrate a lengthy chunk of time The Hot Girlfriend and I have been together. (I could finally afford a nice restaurant.) So off we did go to some swanky-ish eatery in our finest. Having been seated at a cool little corner, we started perusing the menu. Most of the right hand column was written in "trepidation" font. And then we realised the uneasy, tense atmosphere emanating from the table next door to us, as a seemingly normal middle-aged gay couple was making their way through their own hopefully delightful evening. Not so.
With much fanfare the poor waiter was summoned over and grilled about the fish. Dude, yes, it's "delicate". Yes. It's served with whatever. Yes. It's lightly cooked in what-what. Yes, sir, I assure you you will not be disappointed.

... 5 WHOLE minutes pass...

Feet start trippling uncontrollably under the table. Barely concealed howls of outrage at having to wait so long fill the restaurant. Patrons start to get uneasy. Glances are cast. The poor waiter, after explaining to the gentleman that he couldn't serve uncooked food was sent to summon the manager, who had even less luck with this doos. Freak out! "Just take me home! Please! This is ridiculous! Take me home now!" At this stage the partner was doing his best to blend in with the background like a chameleon.

Just then the food arrives...

One bite... ONE.

Hack! Hack! Hack! Hack! 20 Seconds later the plate that had contained on it a lovely looking piece of Kingklip and some sides was reduced to a large portion of marine Purity. And declared, loudly and vociferously to be "the most tasteless and disgusting plate of food I have ever had..."

In a supreme effort not to ruin my own evening by glassing this shithead, I asked if we could be seated elsewhere. Our mutual waiter was very accommodating. The Hot Girlfriend was very persuasive at convincing me to remain seated after Cock Master apparently told her off across the restaurant for glancing in his direction.

At long last he stormed out, his buddy skulking out of a side door, and to my eternal surprise, there was no applause.

What an awful human being.

Nonetheless, the evening was a resounding success. Our food was awesome. Our service even better. And The Hot Girlfriend was wearing a dress that could turn Charlie Sheen into an advocate of serial monogamy. Dayamn!

The rest of the weekend passed without incident. Went looking for cars and spent most of Saturday afternoon watching a card game I'll never understand.

And in the news today! I won 3 Tunes Of Dawn cds! Whoohoo! A huge thanks to Carrie Clevenger and Nerine Dorman. Now to wait until they announce me as the winner of a tattoo voucher as promised for getting 4 "likes" on a photo comment on Friday...

And for those of you that already require a little something to smooth your furrowed brows this Monday morning, Shannon Hope presents this haunting rendition of Lou Reed's 'Perfect Day'. Perfect.

NGDG: I know it's an irrational fear but I'm still scared that if one day I commit a petty crime I may end up being shipped to Australia.

Spread The Love. A Little Goes A Long Way.

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