flippin 'eck...I was really quite worried there for a moment. A strange, seldom seen phenomenon called sunshine, visited us fleetingly in the last few days, temporarily removing my 'rantability'. I'd heard some urban mythology about this sun 'thing' and its'ability to promote feelings of inner serenity, so it is with more than a modicum of relief that I can announce the return of our normal atmospheric state or 'shit weather', to use the time honoured colloquialism and with The Beast of Motorhead lending a suitable background vibe, my natural venom for all things annoying, has returned. Hoorah! (I really should have got this Blog thang going in winter, during the normalcy of unremitting gloom and despondency).
Had a bit of a 'debate' (euphemism for small fight) with the other half, one night during last week, so getting up and going to work with each other was the standout highlight of the following day. I've never known the feeling one gets from removing a pick axe from ones head, but I was probably closer than would be considered, comfortable. Anyhoo, in the true spirit of reconciliation (or, we're stuck here with each other, so we might as well get on with it) we set about the business of our small but perfectly formed restaurant. I only mention this little cameo, to help anyone reading this, who does not work directly with the public, understand that we Restauranteurs are only human and our little lives can be just as meaningful or pathetic, as the customers who grace our establishments. The fact that we choose to make a living serving the public, does not mean we are somehow estranged from the 'norms' of human behavioral frailties. What i'm trying to say (badly) is, on this particular week, I was a bad boy...
I am a temperamental sod, prone to more than the odd outburst. Not overtly rude to everyone, just people with troglodyte tendencies and matching manners, at which point I must bring to your attention, news of a disturbing organization, growing in number, who are devoid of any normal civilities, ignorant of all those around them and prone to leave a trail of devastation and destruction in their wake.They are known under the acronism 'MTF'..yes, I refer to the Mother and Toddler Fascisti. The MTF consists of...
#Mothers inflicted with selective deafness,
#Prams modelled on the armoured tank division of the North African World War 2 offensive, wheeled into restaurants during busy lunches to cause the kind of jam associated with the M25 at teatime,
#brats who spend most of their day, plonked in front of CeeBeebies, before being wheeled out and ignored in the restaurant, whilst mummy chats about the poor quality of clothes pegs, to other mummy,
#mumsies who leave the table space looking like a shithole ( cos ickl Timmy was 'expressing himself' ) and expecting the lowly-paid scumsuckers to clear up after their fat, lazy keesters...there, I said it,
#etc, etc...
Now there are certain establishments that choose to specifically cater to the MTF. They employ endless lines of spotty youths who work for two groats a day and all the Monosodium Glutamate they can suck through a straw, safe in the knowledge that they are too shit-scared to create any kind of fuss over the ensuing chimpanzee tea parties, for fear that Tarquin tells Mummy-fascist, Mummy-fascist complains to Manager, who in turn craps his pants in fear over the likely bad publicity on Trip Advisor and veiled threat that Mummy-fascist will tell all her followers, who will similarly boycott said establishment. These hell-holes are however, an entirely good thing, as they keep the MTF ringfenced and well away from the remainder of those individuals who simply want to enjoy lunch in a convivial atmosphere and behave like a fully fuctioning adult.
Well, anyhoo, to cut a long one short, I made 'bad attitude faces' at a couple of these goons in our wee hacienda and after clearing up their personal Hiroshima, they reported their disdane to my other half and left, vowing not to return and would recommend other MTFs to do likewise...fuckin result!! It's a latter day Basil Fawlty 'well, we don't want that riff-raff in here anyway, Sybil' victory for the Restauranteur and high time someone let these wipes know that their slovenly manner and 'we bring our fuck-off prams/breast feed/let ickl Britney bawl and scream because it's the modern way' (choose any one) fascist behaviour, is not appreciated by either customers or staff.
So then, anyone for a quiet lunch...
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