"Right - who wants desserts?" asked the slightly over-attentive waiter.Yes, we have eaten in a Harvester before. And having survived the first two courses it was time to study the sweet menu.
"Right, that'll be two chocolate indulgences, one profiteroles and I shall have the rhubarb crumble."
"I'm sorry sir, we're completely out of rhubarb crumble. Would you like to choose something else?"
Quel horreur! What to have?
My eyes turn to the specials board, and: "The spotted dick. I shall have the spotted dick with custard."
Time passes. Over-attentive waiter returns with an armful of desserts.
"Right - who's the profiteroles?"
I take charge of this otherwise tricky siutation.
"My charming wife is the profiteroles. And the chocolate indulgences are for my equally charming children."
And then, help me, the truth:
"...and I'm the dick."
And later, Over-attentive waiter returns.
"How are your desserts?"
"This is the best dick I've had in my mouth all day."
Why? Why do I say these things?
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