I went to &Pasta on Old Compton Street earlier.

I ordered penne arrabiata and a bottle of Peroni and took a seat and started listening to the Elis James and John Robins podcast.

About 10 minutes later, my food hadn’t arrived. 20 minutes in and I begin to notice that people who definitely came in after me have already been served. 30 minutes in and I google “restaurant waiting times”. 45 minutes in and I start to think “I’m going to actually have to complain. This is actually unacceptable. I am actually going to have to enter into some sort of confrontation. I really don’t want to do this but I am completely in the right.”

An hour and then I snap. I walk up to the counter and say “Hi. I’m sorry but I ordered some food about an hour ago and it didn’t arrive.”

“No, I wasn’t given a receipt. It was penne arrabiata and a Peroni.”

“Well I wasn’t sure if you’d had some sort of problem in the kitchen so that’s why I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“No I don’t want it now, I just want my money back.”

“I’ve already told you I wasn’t given a receipt.”

“Mate. Are you kidding me? You’re going to charge me for the Peroni?”

“Well I was dealing with that guy but he’s now wiping a plate with a cloth.”

“I’ve already said I don’t have a receipt.”

“OH YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME THIS IS BEYOND A JOKE. FORGET IT. FORGET IT. THIS IS CODSWALLOP” and then I walked out wishing I hadn’t said “codswallop” but also thinking that it was brilliant that I said “codswallop”.

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