So last night we decided to go for one ‘last hurrah’... we chose a local Chinese as we’d not been to one for ages.

The drama that unfolded during our meal was like a terrible episode of a really bad, chaotic soap opera.

Because I had to endure it then so do you!

Thread.

We arrived at the door at the same time as a couple in their 20s with a small baby.

The lad shouts “For fuck sake I’ve forgotten my fucking mask” but as it’s a tiny restaurant they are quickly seated.
We are seated too.
Bang next to them.
HEARING EVERY SINGLE SHOUTED WORD.

Like some Jeremy Kyle mixed with Shameless mixed with Eastenders mixed with Breaking Bad ....we had front row seats to a pretty horrendous, pretty explicit, pretty sweary show.

Unlike crappy TV however we were unable to switch the damn thing off.
Or the volume down.

Firstly, the lass says “I used to come here all the time with [insert name of ex ].
Painfully, the first argument begins:
“Why did you fucking mention him? You’re fucking me now”
“I’m just saying...”
“Well fucking don’t just say, I feel like pure shit now, fucks sake, wounded”

This goes on back and forth for a while whilst we bury our heads in our menus.

Then it appears the lad needs to transfer some money to his dad and his banking app is “being a fucking c$nt”. He’s desperate. It’s urgent.
“It’s his fucking money” so the FIRST phone call begins...

An abusive, ranty, pissed off CAN I SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER! phone call takes place with Halifax telephone services. It’s no good. The account is locked. There’s nothing that can be done. “I’m fucking mad now because it’s my fucking money...” yada yada yada... all on speakerphone.

We order.
In hindsight we really should have run... fast...or asked for earplugs.

So with no joy with the call centre the lad tries his luck with automated banking.

Think: “TRANSFER MONEY” in a loud, Manc accent...

Our drinks arrive and I really wish I’d ordered wine .

My Coke sits laughing at me on the table and my head begins to pound.
Finding his problem unresolved with telephone banking the 2nd expletive filled, threatening call is made on speakerphone to the call centre.
“I’m really fucking mad now ...” type shizzle.

Cue kid crying.

“Can we get ( I hate that phrase ) chips as quick as possible Dave”
Chips & tommy K are shoved into the screeching child. His Moncler T-shirt gets covered in tomato sauce “Fuck sake!”.
Their starters & our soup arrive there is a brief, blessed silence.
Loud mastication ensues.

And snorting, and burping and “fucking top scran this ain’t it...”
Indeed it was Top Scran.
We sip our soup and try not to look too pained.
Moncler baby is now chucking chips & rice on the floor.
Dad is FaceTimed and “The fucking banking app isn’t working I’ll bell you later”

Now I’m working class, I was brought up on a council estate, we barely ate out BUT I know, and always have, what is appropriate restaurant behaviour.
This, dear reader is just the tip of the iceberg of inappropriate, infuckingconsiderate restaurant behaviour.

Buckle up...

An argument commences about why the banking app isn’t working and can he go to the cash machine and how the fuck are they going to pay for the meal?
“Shut up, shut up, shut up ... stop pecking my head x 5 “

Our delicious platter arrives. My patience is REALLY wearing thin.

A mate FaceTimes the lad.
A conversation goes back and forth about the girl he’s banging. Some sage advice is given.
“Why don’t you take her for a nice bit of nosh before a bit of romance...”
“Fuck that shit I haven’t got time for that bollocks”
Intimate details are shared.

This lass gives a first class BJ apparently ( without the niceties of a bit of dinner first ).
Now I’m texting Mike trying to figure out how we can leave. Trouble is we’ve ordered the £32 banquet and the duck is on its way...
I can see the face of the ‘Casanova’. He’s a catch.

If there was a picture next to the dictionary definition of “rough diamond fuckboy” then this geezers’ face would be a perfect option.

They discuss lockdown and their heavy weekend raving. ( mashed heads ) And how “They never did a day of lockdown last time innit “
Nice one.

The lass chides her beau for talking about “shagging and birds”.
The restaurant owner is furious. He stares impotently at them but they have zero, nada, no awareness of anyone around them AT ALL.

The conversation moves to the lass’ ex in prison.
Uh-oh.

The lad is concerned.

Word on the street is that he’s gonna get a pasting when the geezer gets out.
He’s been boning his missus and ‘playing daddy’ to his kid.
He’s gonna get proper banged out.
“Nah, nah, nah I wun’t let that happen...”
An argument around whether she will go back with him starts.

And SPOILER ... she would ( if little, chubby, black tracksuit, trainers, man bag, excellent manners and broken bank account isn’t ‘making her dead happy!’ )

The quarter duck arrives and I genuinely feels as shredded as it’s crispy meat!