On the way back from drinks, me and housemate Jamie head in to Millennium Chicken, our local fried chicken haunt. The smiley south Indian man behind the counter greets us cheerily, recognising us both as frequent visitors. This is a bit worrying: in the health stakes, this shit makes Turkey Twizzlers look like salad.
"The usual? Chickenburger and chips?" the man asks Jamie.
"I'm not eating tonight," says Jamie.
"I'll have two chicken and chips please," I say. I'm a bit drunk. He nods and pours some frozen chips in the deep fryer.
"You haven't been in here for a long time," says the man to Jamie.
"I was in here last night, but you weren't!" counters Jamie.
"Ah!" says the man, happily. It's as if this is the job he was born to do. He's so happy.
While the chip fry, we find out the chicken man's name. It is Shiva.
"Isn't Shiva a Hindu god?" wonders Jamie.
"Yep, one of the top three isn't it?" I say.
"Yes, there is Brahma..." begins Shiva.
"The creator!" I shout triumphantly.
"Yes! Very good sir! And Vishnu..."
"The preserver!" I know my stuff.
"And Shiva, the destroyer."
"So you're the destroyer then?"
"Yes, ha ha ha."
"What do you destroy? Chicken?" asks Jamie. We all laugh.
The man hands me the food, happier than ever. Me and Jamie cross the road, with the chicken.