told her, then added, ‘Don’t know. Never had it.’
‘Well, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never had it?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never been run over by a dumper truck either but I know I probably wouldn’t like that,’ I reasoned.
‘What sort of answer’s that?’ Charley asked.
‘My final one,’ I informed her.
‘Well, it’s your loss, because it’s delicious,’ she pointed out, presumably to try and break my spirits. ‘Go on, why don’t
you have it?’ she then went on, tapping my menu with hers.
As much as I liked Charley, I didn’t want to get browbeaten into having something horrible to eat that I didn’t want to eat
when I’d already lined up my taste buds for a full English. At the same time, though, I didn’t want Charley to go off thinking
I was just some big dummy who hadn’t made it past Farley’s rusks yet either, so I quickly weighed up my options, tutted a
few times, wobbled my big fat lip, then told her, ‘OK, I’ll have the eggs Benedict with you, then.’
‘I’m not having the eggs Benedict,’ she told me.
‘You’re not? I thought you were.’
‘No, I’m having the haddock and eggs Florentine,’ she said, almost knocking me off my chair in disgust.
‘Urgh, what the hell’s that?’ I heaved, my eyes scampering back down the menu in horror. Charley reached over and pointed
it out to prove that she hadn’t just made up some disgusting concoction to laugh at my reaction.
‘There.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ I double-checked.
‘Of course I’m not,’ she assured me, and I almost honked up all over the table when I saw that it had cream and spinach in
it as well as haddock. No, surely that wasn’t right? People really ate that?
‘What’s it like?’ I asked warily.
‘I don’t know,’ Charley replied.
‘What? You mean you haven’t even had it before?’ I gasped in astonishment, my revulsion skyrocketing by the second.
‘No, but it sounds lovely.’
‘No it doesn’t,’ I had to point out. ‘Don’t have it. It’ll be horrible.’
‘Don’t you like smoked haddock?’ Charley asked.
‘God, no,’ I replied.
Charley thought for a moment then asked me if I’d ever actually had it. What a question! Of course I hadn’t.
‘Then once again, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never had it?’ she asked, and for a moment I shat myself thinking
she was going to make me have a plate-load of that filth just to teach me a lesson.
‘Look, I know what I like and I know what I don’t like. And I just like bacon and eggs,’ I explained in my defence.
‘Well, it’s got eggs in it.’
‘Yeah, and fish and spinach. You drop either of them on my dinner and see how fast you get it back. And these are in my breakfast!’
Charley almost laughed. Almost, but I’m not sure she entirely knew what she was laughing at.
‘You don’t like spinach?’
‘Urgh, no, I don’t,’ I told her.
‘And have you ever actually had it?’ she asked, sensing a pattern.
‘Yes, actually, I have,’ I replied, shooting the pants out of that particular theory.
‘When?’
‘When? I don’t know. When I was a kid. At school. It was horrible,’ I told her triumphantly, resting my case.
‘And you haven’t had it since?’
‘Of course I ain’t. Why would I? Not if it’s horrible.’
Charley wasn’t sure where to start, so we both put down our menus and waited for a few seconds while she ordered her thoughts.
Not that I could see how she was going to talk her way round me on this one. I mean seriously, if something’s horrible, it’s
horrible. Full stop. End of story. Get it away from me and bring me some chips. Falling into a ditch full of stinging nettles
hurts like fuck no matter how many times you do it. This was an open-and-shut drawbridge.
‘Have you ever drunk beer?’ Charley finally asked.
‘Well, it’s a bit early for me, to be honest, love,’ I said, checking my watch.
‘Well, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never had it?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never been run over by a dumper truck either but I know I probably wouldn’t like that,’ I reasoned.
‘What sort of answer’s that?’ Charley asked.
‘My final one,’ I informed her.
‘Well, it’s your loss, because it’s delicious,’ she pointed out, presumably to try and break my spirits. ‘Go on, why don’t
you have it?’ she then went on, tapping my menu with hers.
As much as I liked Charley, I didn’t want to get browbeaten into having something horrible to eat that I didn’t want to eat
when I’d already lined up my taste buds for a full English. At the same time, though, I didn’t want Charley to go off thinking
I was just some big dummy who hadn’t made it past Farley’s rusks yet either, so I quickly weighed up my options, tutted a
few times, wobbled my big fat lip, then told her, ‘OK, I’ll have the eggs Benedict with you, then.’
‘I’m not having the eggs Benedict,’ she told me.
‘You’re not? I thought you were.’
‘No, I’m having the haddock and eggs Florentine,’ she said, almost knocking me off my chair in disgust.
‘Urgh, what the hell’s that?’ I heaved, my eyes scampering back down the menu in horror. Charley reached over and pointed
it out to prove that she hadn’t just made up some disgusting concoction to laugh at my reaction.
‘There.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ I double-checked.
‘Of course I’m not,’ she assured me, and I almost honked up all over the table when I saw that it had cream and spinach in
it as well as haddock. No, surely that wasn’t right? People really ate that?
‘What’s it like?’ I asked warily.
‘I don’t know,’ Charley replied.
‘What? You mean you haven’t even had it before?’ I gasped in astonishment, my revulsion skyrocketing by the second.
‘No, but it sounds lovely.’
‘No it doesn’t,’ I had to point out. ‘Don’t have it. It’ll be horrible.’
‘Don’t you like smoked haddock?’ Charley asked.
‘God, no,’ I replied.
Charley thought for a moment then asked me if I’d ever actually had it. What a question! Of course I hadn’t.
‘Then once again, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never had it?’ she asked, and for a moment I shat myself thinking
she was going to make me have a plate-load of that filth just to teach me a lesson.
‘Look, I know what I like and I know what I don’t like. And I just like bacon and eggs,’ I explained in my defence.
‘Well, it’s got eggs in it.’
‘Yeah, and fish and spinach. You drop either of them on my dinner and see how fast you get it back. And these are in my breakfast!’
Charley almost laughed. Almost, but I’m not sure she entirely knew what she was laughing at.
‘You don’t like spinach?’
‘Urgh, no, I don’t,’ I told her.
‘And have you ever actually had it?’ she asked, sensing a pattern.
‘Yes, actually, I have,’ I replied, shooting the pants out of that particular theory.
‘When?’
‘When? I don’t know. When I was a kid. At school. It was horrible,’ I told her triumphantly, resting my case.
‘And you haven’t had it since?’
‘Of course I ain’t. Why would I? Not if it’s horrible.’
Charley wasn’t sure where to start, so we both put down our menus and waited for a few seconds while she ordered her thoughts.
Not that I could see how she was going to talk her way round me on this one. I mean seriously, if something’s horrible, it’s
horrible. Full stop. End of story. Get it away from me and bring me some chips. Falling into a ditch full of stinging nettles
hurts like fuck no matter how many times you do it. This was an open-and-shut drawbridge.
‘Have you ever drunk beer?’ Charley finally asked.
‘Well, it’s a bit early for me, to be honest, love,’ I said, checking my watch.
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