Sunday, 3 May 2009

Jabba The Hutt

Most of the locals were friendly, as I say. Exceptions to every rule though, isn't there?

Will was hungry, so we headed for a local joint for some food. There was a small place which was clean enough, and Will liked the look of the in we went. At the far end was a table with a row of metal pots, a very large woman face-down on the table behind them. She looked less than happy at being woken to actually serve some people in her cafe. How rude of us.

She wasn't pretty, and pulled a face at us which reminded me of a particularly loathsome character in Star Wars. I think she was a bit heavier than him actually, and Jabba would be the more upset of the two by my comparison. We asked what was on the menu and she waved a wobbly arm across the pots and scowled. Will began lifting he lids one by one as I eyed the hairy tufts sprouting from beneath her arms and watched sweat trickle down her face. I wasn't keen on the fare; some of the pots looked like they contained the remains of Dennis Nilsen's lunch. Content she'd done her bit, she promptly tutted and went back to sleep. I was charmed, and found myself pitying the poor bastard who wakes up next to this.

Deciding a glass of Coke would meet my current nutritional needs, and keen to prevent the contents of my stomach squirting through the cheeks of my arse at a later stage, I declined the food. Will didn't, and it was quite amusing to watch his face as he begrudgingly ate his "pork".

I'd have paid to have Gordon Ramsey turn up and tear a strip off this woman on Kitchen Nightmares. But frankly, I couldn't see her giving a flying fuck.

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