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Many years ago, I went out with a chef. Kitchens are merely vice dens with food. You couldn't move for people bonking and snorting coke in the store room. And the things they did with the food...
My personal vice was chocolate mousse - I remember it being very calming in all the chaos around me. I think they put things in it.
Tell us your stories of working in kitchens, bars and the rest of the nightmare that is the catering trade.
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 9:58)
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means that I get to serve pretentious wankers all the time.
How hard is it to say 'please'??
One fine summer's day the pissed-up winner of the UK-indoor-dickhead-championships swaggers to the bar shouting through a lot of customers who have been waiting longer.
to shut him up; "what can I get you, paul?"
the most ridiculous over blown order involving running around the building to find dom perignon, extra bottles of gin, black sambuca, slimline tonic water, cocktails, crushed ice, and so on.
"take a seat, i'll pop it over for you"
tell the waitress, here's such and such, blah blah, and three gin and tonics, *this one is for paul*...
i'd dipped my sweaty hairy nuts into his drink
simple, but effective
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 12:06, Reply)
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