Monsieur Frites
3 friends and I decided to utilise our gap year by completing a season in the Alps skiing. Being thrown into a tiny chalet environment with another 6 lads for 6 months inevitably creates a lot of testosterone fuelled competition whereby bets and challenges were regularly made.

One such instance was when as a group, we decided to stray away from the home cooked delicacies that a limited budget could afford- (crap rice and bread that was as stale as the queen mothers lingerie) and ventured out to an Australian themed cafe on a recommendation that the kangaroo steak was a must-try.

Now the kangaroo steak was served on a chopping board with mango and was as promised- delicious...but the menu stated that the steak was served with chips. The cafe, in a bid to 1) accomodate the 10 of us and 2) to probably save on washing up...served the chips on 2 large silver sharing platters and they werent stingy with the portions.

Before I tell you about the bet that ensued, I have to tell you a little bit about my friend Frank.
Frank was and still is controlled by his love of money...everything he does in life eventually turns towards his need to be rich. He is a tight fisted bastard who wont help anyone unless there is some sort of monetary benefit to him. This however also means he isnt adverse to the odd gamble.

As the 2 mountains of chips were placed on our table, Frank comments in the kind of way only Frank would with a sarcastic 'That ones just for me - you lot can all share the other 1'. Not original at all! but when Saul replied..."i bet you all the money in my wallet that you can't finish that whole platter"... with € signs in his eyes and a new founder hunger - Franks game was afoot.

Frank consumed hundreds and hundreds of chips in an agonising hour of one....chip....after....the ....other.

He finished that platter, won €15 and a 20p piece and stained the piste with chunks of vomitty chips all the way back to the chalet. Over the next few months, the story I have just told you was relayed to the seasonaires and holiday makers across the resort and when walking around with Frank, the beautiful clean mountain air was tarred with the constant greeting of french accents shouting "HEEEEYYYY MONSEIUR FRITES!"

A nickname for life!
(Eggstrovert isnt patronising you...honest..., Thu 7 May 2009, 17:54, Reply)