Gaylord
I was out a few weeks back with for a few drinks with Lloyd around Clapham (he doesn't live in London, so it’s a convenient middle ground) and after getting a bit drunker than intended for a weeknight we decided to head to The Gaylord for a curry.

I do like curry, though am very much a medium spice man and have never had the insecurity to eat inhumanly hot food to impress other people. I ordered something of medium spiciness and carried on chopsing.

As we were chatting, Lloyd's phone rang and the expression on his face suggested it wasn't a trivial call. "I've got to take this" he said, and since the restaurant was so small, decided to go outside to talk on the phone. I sat there and eavesdropped on other conversations for my own amusement while I waited for his conversation to end.

After about 10 minutes of this, there was no sign of Lloyd, and the food arrived. Thinking he'd been rude enough, I decided to tuck into my food and he could join in when he was back. I was tucking in, enjoying it, when due to a sudden lapse in concentration, I inadvertently shovelled a couple of chilies into my mouth. It wasn't until I'd chomped down and swallowed that the enormity of what I'd done hit me.

I felt the burning sensation start to make its way through my mouth, a sensation simultaneously numbing and excruciating. As the seconds passed it just got worse and worse. I started to panic, not wanting to seem like the sort of idiot who eats chilies or make a scene in the restaurant. I gripped the side of the table, and dropped my jaw in a pathetic attempt to aerate my mouth while beads of sweat started running down my forehead.

Suddenly in a moment of lucid clarity I had a fantastic idea and called the waiter over. In a voice as close to calmness as I could muster, I said "Would it be possible to get a glass of milk?"

"Sorry?"

"Milk. Please could I have a glass of milk."

Blank stare.

"Like from a cow, milk, creamy milk... Please."

At which point the waiter walked off, but without that act of realisation that you would expect from someone who truly understood you. Despite this, I hoped for the best and sat there trying to focus on not crying, avoiding eye contact and trying to find my safe place in my head.

What felt like an eternity later, the same waiter came back to my table and asked "Sorry, what was it that you said you wanted again?"
I despaired as I realised I was no closer to my milky haven, and involuntarily stared at him like I wanted to rip his head off and present it to his first born. Sensing a problem, one of the other waiters joined in to try and assist.

Hands still gripping the table like I was going to fall off the earth and struggling to talk, I repeated "Milk. Please could I have a glass of milk?". My eyes were filled with pleading, while I wondered if it really was such an odd thing to ask for milk in a curry house. As my jaw continued to hang, the new waiter suddenly showed had that expression of recognition from my request that I had so sorely craved.

Tears started to fill my eyes as I pleaded for my shining knight to give me the respite from pain that I needed so badly. The pain continued to rip through my mouth as I resumed my meditative state staring at the patterns in the wall paper, trying to find some sort of hidden meaning.

After another eternity that was probably only a few seconds, the first waiter beamed back to the table with a glowing expression fit for a hero. It was a face I couldn't be happier to see again, until I looked down at his hands. In his hands was a little jug of double cream. I snapped, I couldn't keep my composure any more. In a raised voice of desperation, with tears blurring my view I pleaded "Milk, not cream, I need milk, please bring me milk, why won't you bring me milk, I just want a glass o-" when I suddenly realised it wasn't going to get any better than this and I should just take what I've been given.

I took the jug of double cream from him and started to down it like some sort of obese hero that nobody asked for, the negative reaction of my body to so much cream being nothing compared to the sweet relief my mouth and stomach were now feeling. With so little there, I held the last drops in my mouth, hoping they could counteract the pain. It wasn't ideal, but at least I had a moment of respite.

As the pain started to subside, the positive feeling of knowing I had overcome the worst of it made the remaining time so much easier to deal with. With the mental capacity to think of other things, I wondered where Lloyd had been all of this time, which turned out to be twenty minutes and not the thirty years that it had felt. A couple of minutes later he returned to the table, apologising for the long phone conversation, blissfully unaware of the traumatic experience that had occurred in his absence.

I could barely touch the rest of the food and wish I could say I'd learned my lesson, but that would be a lie.
( ma0sm, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 13:55, 28 replies)

it was only a couple of chilli's, you fackin mary

( GeordieJay Bummers are deaf, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 13:58, closed)

True
I am a fackin mary
( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:40, closed)

I also once had some hot food
in an Indian restaurant
(Baggenfrock get fucked, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 14:14, closed)

it's like we were separated at birth

( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:41, closed)

Most curry houses will supply you with a magical brown elixir, with which to cool your burned tongue.
Coca-cola is its name, and they will take great delight in charging you through the nose for it
Failing that, beer.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 14:42, closed)

Beer was doing nothing
I had a beer, I necked it (missed that part out of the story) yet it did not get better
( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:43, closed)

i did this with chilli vodka
unbelievable pain. eventually the barman gave me a packet of sugar. that worked too.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 15:23, closed)

Yer - basically the acid is burning through the first oral dermal level, making air contact possible with nerve endings and thus incredibly "hot".
Sugar will promote the production of saliva, which provides a nice gooey covering for them.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 16:00, closed)

what an absolute sack of shitty bollocks

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 16:36, closed)

sounded good though

( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:43, closed)

Couldn't she just have pissed in her own mouth?
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 16:36, closed)

probably wasn't the best time to be getting her rocks off

( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:44, closed)

This sounds like entirely plausible science.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 22:00, closed)

it's definitely either 100% pure science FACT or an absolute sack of shitty bollocks
one or the other
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 22:04, closed)

you really are thick, aren't you?

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Mon 11 Aug 2014, 22:20, closed)

Vag is the internet equivalent of the pub bore constantly spouting his edgy 'nonconformist' opinions.
You can almost see him huffing smugly and tugging on his braces as he types.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 12 Aug 2014, 10:45, closed)

...and he blindly believes any old shit

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 12 Aug 2014, 12:55, closed)

THE INTERNET IS VERY SERIOUS.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 12 Aug 2014, 16:55, closed)

Cheers.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Wed 13 Aug 2014, 16:48, closed)

I was expecting this to be a pun
I feel let down that it wasn't.
(Eukanuba, Tue 12 Aug 2014, 12:21, closed)

sorry

( ma0sm, Thu 14 Aug 2014, 12:45, closed)