Jonola14

CLOCKS

Last night, Alex M invited me out with two girls he knew from his university days. I had never met these girls before and we were due to meet them for a curry and a beer in the Moon Under Water in Watford town centre.

Fifteen minutes after they arrived, we had chosen the curries and Vicky and I went to the bar to order. I stood next to an elderly gentlemen who was very keen on getting served and waited patiently at the bar.

Slowly, he turned round and looked at me. I could see at least a dozen hairy, crusty moles sticking out at me, he went to speak and I feared the power of his breath.

“Is this your girl?” he croaked, turning towards Vicky who was on tip-toes trying to see over the bar.

“Ummmm” I momentarily forgot how to talk.

“Is she your friend?” he re-phrased and my brain clicked my tongue back into action, so to speak.

“Ummm, yes, I suppose so”.

“Well,” and he paused to gulp down the mouthful of saliva that had built up over the past few minutes. He turned to us again.

“The reason I ask” he continued, with another irritating pause, “is because the clocks go back this weekend”.

“Riiight”, I said, trying to contain my laughter. “Thanks for that”.

But it wasn’t over yet, the barmaid had come over and asked him what he wanted.

“A big wine please”.

He took his drink, wandered off and we waited patiently for the barmaid to take our orders.

‘Tap on the shoulder’

“Could you give this to the young lady that served me please?” He was back, glass of wine sloshing in one hand, twenty pence bit in the other. Worryingly, he didn’t seem drunk. So I handed the twenty pence to the barmaid, told her not to spend it all at once and retreated back to the table, giggling incessantly. Watford always seems to provide some sort of entertainment.