There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch
So they say. Not unless you know Simon Burden of MF Global UK Ltd (Paris Branch), that is. Who has kindly furnished me with a plethora of information and data FOC, just for the hell of it. Cheers Simon. There's a pint of Kir Royale on the bar for you over there. There's probably no point offering to buy you lunch over there, as you're almost certainly sick of that foreign muck. I bet your craving for a decent bacon butty and a nice mug of Yorkshire tea though aren't you? Mmmm, that's what I'm having right now and it's lovely.
I took MrsN#1 to Paris once. No it wasn't for a romantic interlude, I was going to the Paris Bourse, back in the days when I worked for Bunge. We went out one night and she ordered lamb chops as I recall (a slight faux pas when you like your steak well done). When they came out they were so undercooked that a decent vet could have revived them. I told her to shut up and get them down her neck, we could hardly send them back as we couldn't speak French, and the waiters (astonishingly) didn't speak a word of the Queen's. I mean, how unlucky is that? You're in Paris and you've gone and picked the only restaurant in town that didn't have hoards of bi-lingual waiters on hand just waiting to serve a Brit and subserviently praise us for our war effort. She refused to talk to me for the remainder of the entire trip. Ahhh, happy days.
I took MrsN#1 to Paris once. No it wasn't for a romantic interlude, I was going to the Paris Bourse, back in the days when I worked for Bunge. We went out one night and she ordered lamb chops as I recall (a slight faux pas when you like your steak well done). When they came out they were so undercooked that a decent vet could have revived them. I told her to shut up and get them down her neck, we could hardly send them back as we couldn't speak French, and the waiters (astonishingly) didn't speak a word of the Queen's. I mean, how unlucky is that? You're in Paris and you've gone and picked the only restaurant in town that didn't have hoards of bi-lingual waiters on hand just waiting to serve a Brit and subserviently praise us for our war effort. She refused to talk to me for the remainder of the entire trip. Ahhh, happy days.