Devil Food!
Not, it must be said, in any way the fault of the probably lovely staff at some generic Far Eastern nosher in central Amsterdam, but entirely the fault of myself and five 50+ year olds including my mum, god bless her.

I was there with said bunch of 50+ers because my dad had dropped out of said Holland trip and there was a free spare ticket. Once we got there it was all "You're young, you must buy weed for us and show us how to smoke it." As if they hadn't been stoned off their tits most of the sixties, but I wasn't complaining.

By the time we got to the eaterie, only two of them could still read, and all they could manage to say was "everything." I was feeling in completely control, serenely indifferent to everything, although it had to be admitted that I couldn't read either.

A banquet of Michelle Winner proportions appeared, but I then spent the entire meal in fear for my life as I KNEW I could hear the demon chef cackling from the kitchen as he prepared his selection of lightly broiled foreigners guts in spring rolls and chopped up worn-out hooker satay. I could see the evil gleam in the cannibal waitresses eyes and they slipped the sleeping power in our Tiger beers and prepared to drag us to the kitchens. The meat glistened, the colour of evil. I could hear the giggling of the waiters as they hid behind various pillars and partitions whenever you spun round to try to catch them at it, but they had already made themselves invisible. We were the only ones in the restaurant. Clearly because everyone else had already been cooked and eaten.

The only way I could communicate our desperate plight to my fellows was by trying to behave completely normally, so as not to block the airwaves, and wait for them to pick up on the signs too.

But they never did- strange but true.
(oranguturn, Tue 2 May 2006, 20:04, Reply)