As I regress towards infancy, my childishness knows no bounds.
Before the movie we went for a meal at Wagamamas (Japanese food served in an environment not in keeping with the cost of the menu. And it isn't a discrepancy in favour of the diners.) A large bowl of chilli beef ramen would ensure that I wouldn't be disturbed in the theatre by members of the great unwashed attempting to sit next to me. And if anyone dared to try, their occupation of the seat would be short-lived.
The meal was a little unusual. I like my steak rare, but prefer my chicken well-done. It seems that as well as raw fish, the Japanese go in for raw chicken too. At least thats how the inaccurately named appetisers came. A companion grabbed a lump of chicken and chewed with an increasingly pained expression on his face. "Tastes a bit odd" he said. I took a bite, and promptly spat it out again. The last time I saw cooked chicken bleed was at a family barbecue ("Crunchy on the outside, chewy in the middle!" "If you say so, Uncle")
It appeared that they were breaking in a new chef who, judging by what we could see of the kitchen area, was adept at creating impressive fireballs, but less so at preparing chicken. The manageress apologised profusely (doubtless fearing a visit from Health And Safety) and naturally the meal was free. Equally naturally, we ordered more drinks. Imminent food poisoning is nothing compared to free drinks.
And it was then that the idea was had. We had no idea who the manageress actually was. All that had happened was a smartly dressed woman had appeared and said there would be no charge. What, we wondered, was stopping us performing a similar service for other diners? It would be like setting a time-bomb. Pick a table, appear and apologise for something and then say the meal is on the house. Then retire outside and wait for the fireworks when the unfortunate diners attempt to leave with the distressingly pierced waitress thundering after them in hot pursuit.
Like I said, my childishness knows no bounds. Although the waitress could probably have used the exercise.
No, we didn't do it. However, next weekend I will be in London. In a smart suit.
