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Graeme had to work so David took us out for lunch. In Spain we have Maccy D’s and BK but not a KFC and as David knew this he decided to treat us to some of the colonals famous spicy delights.

We entered the near deserted franchise and was met at the counter by a trainee neanderthal to take our order. This guy had the IQ of a octopus and the personality of a bullfrog, actually that’s a bit insulting to said animal species.

So Mrs A and I studied the pretty pictures as we were virgins to this type of cuisine and this may assist us in making a decision. Finally my mind was set.

‘I would like to have the Zinger meal please’, I asked

‘We got no fries’ he recited to me in a monotone voice that he must have used to the many previous, bemused patrons that had preceeded us.

‘I’m sorry’ I exclaimed, ‘You’ve run out of fries’

‘ urrr, yeah that’s right, We got no fries‘

‘So it’s 4 days before Christmas and you have run out of fries’

‘Sorry, you can ‘ave another side instead’

‘Another side?’

‘urr yeah, We got no fries, so you can ‘ave another side instead’

‘Yes I heard you the first time’, ‘So with my meal I can have a burger, spicy chicken on a stick thing, a drink, beans and another pot of beans’ ‘Cool, I’ll go for that then’

‘So you want 2 beans then’

This is where I made the fatal mistake of thinking this guy was on the same planet as us and could think outside the box, would he be able to ‘get’ my sarcastic humour? so I replied ‘ I hope there’s gonna be more than one bean in each pot’ whilst keeping a straight face and hoping that blob boy would have a little chuckle to brighten up his day. But my witty retort although being appreciated by my companions who were giggling beside me, was completely lost on the young zombie in the baseball cap who was starring at me, totally confused and looking around for help from the 12 year old spotty supervisor.

Well the 5* day release helper wasn’t there, so genius had to think on his feet and make a call.

This does not compute.

This was not explained to me in training

Quick, I must find an answer, whirl, clunk, clang, whizz, bong….ahh cha-ching

‘No Sir, each pot is full up‘ was the best he could muster by which time I had resolved myself to defeat at the hands of this amoeba and just nodded in appreciation of his resolve and agreed to the extra bean.

Me and Mrs A when off in search of a semi-clean table at which to dine, whilst David waited at the deserted counter for our obviously over complicated order. Meanwhile our table-finding expedition was unsuccessful and I had to resort to grabbing a few paper towels and wiping down a table for usage while avoiding all the rubbish that adorned the floor. Maybe they had a coach of football supporters in just before us, and maybe not.

Maybe the staff were very busy, and maybe not. Maybe it just wasn’t their turn to clean, who knows.

I must say the chicken was nice and I shared my ‘2 beans’ with my fellow diners. We left the establishment making sure to wipe our feet before we left as not to dirty the pavement outside and made our way to the 24 hr supermarket to pick up a few bits. But we were met a the door by what must have been the father of the KFC guy who told us ‘The store is shut’

‘What’ I said

‘The store is shut, we open again at 1 minute passed midnight’

‘I though you were open 24 hours a day?’ I questioned.

‘It’s Sunday’ he replied.

Yes I know that, I thought, but after my previous experience I decided to question no more for fear of a brain explosion. Instead I just turned and headed back to the car checking out the small print on the ‘Open 24 hrs’ sign on the way and realising that the 84 year old ‘Security’ guy was right.

OPEN 24 HOURS (sunday closed at 4pm)….So not entirely 24 HOURS then….?????

Not to worry, we’ll do it tomorrow….if anywhere in this part of the world is open?

Nevermind, tomorrow we fly back to civilisation.

****

In the evening we were off to a carvery, we picked up David’s sister and her daughter on the way and proceeded to the establishment for food.

We settled down with a drink and after moving seats because David was too hot, went went to the counter for the carvery and was met by the KFC guy’s dopey brother trying to cut the joints as thin as he could.

The benny hill specticled YTS muppet should never have been left alone with a sharp object let alone a knife and the food looked as if it had been sitting there waiting to die for hours. But being hungry and realising that I was not in a 4* eating house, I poured gravey over the lot to soften it up and enjoyed what I could.

To be honest it wasn’t too bad until the young Mick Hucknell started the pub quiz. More beer please.

We had a laugh and it wasn’t a bad evening all considered, the company was good so what more can you ask.

Off to the airport tomorrow to surprise the grandkids, looking forward to that.

cya ya manana

Keep dancing….Oh no, that’s finished

This entry was posted on Monday, December 22nd, 2008 at 1:25 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.