Waiter! Fetch me my Marigolds!
Barcelona, we working there for a week in a really posh hotel. So posh we couldn’t afford to eat there! Jumping into a taxi hailed by the doorman, we arrived at a restaurant he had apparently recommended.

There were plenty of locals there, seemed like a nice place, and the menu was reasonable. The 4 of us chose a meal and a beer for about €10 each. The waiter slithered over and asked if we wanted a starter. Maybe some Tapas?

Well, whaddaya reckon chaps? Yeah, OK, that would be nice, great!

Duly, the plates of Tapas arrived, some zingy little sausages, some wonderful thin ham, some fucking huge juicy prawns, and some crayfish type of things.
Well, 2 of the guys were having none of that seafood muck, if it’s not out of a tin they don’t want to know. Fine by me, the Tapas was wonderful, though the problem with those prawns is that there’s not that much flesh in them for the size. You throw most of the things away.

So, we finished up, had our €10 Paellas and called for the bill. Should be, oh, €20 each, absolute maximum, surely? Well, as I’m sure you are all well ahead of me here, the bill arrived and the boss looked, jumped, looked again, then went white.

Now it’s standard practice in my crew to snap our fingers and call for our Marigolds at the end of a meal out, we’ll wash up because we can’t meet the bill. Oh, ha ha, very funny. This time, however, we were thinking it for real.

Total bill €286, thanks to the fucking Tapas, which was starting to make me feel distinctly sick. Luckily a credit card was produced and we were able to leave in one piece

As I left though, I approached a rowdy group of about 30 English lads sitting on the other side of the restaurant, obviously on a stag do, or maybe even football fans. Very pissed and barely under control.

“Listen lads, we’ve just had our pants pulled down over there, don’t let these cunts put ANYTHING down on the table unless you know exactly how much it costs.”
“What, you mean like this Tapas shit, these zingy sausages etc.”
“Yep, that’s the stuff, I hope you have plenty of cash with you. Enjoy your meal……..”

It did give me immense pleasure that the last thing I saw as I turned at the door was the sight of several lads standing on the table, and the first chair sailing through the air towards the huge fishtank as the roar of a drunken brawl just kicking off built up.

I hope they wrecked the place!
(Rsoles, Thu 25 Oct 2007, 1:05, Reply)