Thursday, March 09, 2006

We'll always hate Paris

My flatmate Jamie is a total bastard. He came home from work the other night and asked me how my day at work had been. I grunted in a vaguely French accent and asked him how his was.
"Shit - but also brilliant," he said.
"How so?"
"Well, I went through the usual crap; but just before I left, a few of us got invited for a booze-up and posh meal, all paid for by the company. Guess where."
"The Ivy." Celeb dining haven. That would be pretty cool.
"Nope."
"Fifteen." Jamie Oliver's place, run by homeless kids come good.
"Nope, better."
"Er, Gordon Ramsey's restaurant?" Couldn't remember what it's called.
"Nope."
"Tell me. Where?"
"Paris."

He wasn't talking some shitty eaterie in Stockwell called Paris. He meant Paris. As I said, total bastard.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

What if he's going to the equivalent of a shitty Stockwell eaterie in Paris? You'd laugh then.

Will said...

I would. But I'd still be crying inside.

jpt said...

For what it's worth, we went to the Hemingway bar at the Ritz (I had a mojito and laughed at women in fur) and then on to the Resaurant Du Palais Royale. Which was very nice. And in a palace.

Yes, total bastard.

Sue Ellen Mischke said...

I'm a teacher at a public school in America....

My boss ordered in sandwiches once. We even got to pick what kind of sandwich we wanted. If we wanted an extra though (i.e. cheese) we had to pay for it
(i.e .25).