So here I am again sat on my lonesome in a hotel restaurant sans kiddy party this time. In walks a pair of coffin dodging colonial cousins fresh from a day walking around “Nailsworth” (which has one ATM, one shop and one hotel). Bob and Betty sit down trying to decipher the menu and call over the waitress, “Hi there Missy, so this menu has two options, 2 courses for 12 of your British Pounds and 3 courses for 14 of your British Pounds”, “That’s right sir”, “So answer me this missy, does that mean on the 3 course I can have any 3 courses”, “yes sir”, “but does that mean I can have 3 of your mains”, “err no sir it means you can have any starter, any main and any dessert from the list”, “but I want 3 of your mains for that deal”, “are you serious sir”, “most definitely”, “well I’m sorry that is not how it works”, “well this is what I want so how are you going to help me”, “err, I can’t sir”, “well get someone who can”.

This exchange went on again with the manager to the same end, a standoff, one wanting 3 mains and the other refusing to do that for the meal deal. Eventually the ole farts got up and left, shame there were no other restaurants in the area. But hey it brightened up an otherwise dull evening.