Dramatic events last night at the Sausage! We were just finishing service and – fortunately – only a few tables were still occupied, when we suddenly heard the smash of glass and, as my head waiter, Gordon reported it, a brick “sailed through” one of the side windows and landed in the guinea pig cage. It took everyone a few moments to actually realise what had happened, and by the time Gordon and two of our other waiters had raced outside, whoever had thrown the brick had scarpered.
By that time, I had recovered the brick and found a piece of paper wrapped around it with a note written on it, made up from newspaper letter cuttings. This is it:
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t signed but I can have a good guess that it came from a bunch of animal activists. Clearly they do not like our current event of serving guinea pigs which the customers can select themselves from the guinea pig cage.
But it’s a bit of a crap communication, isn’t it. They’ve spelt my name correctly, which I am very flattered by, especially as it is probably the hardest word to spell on the note. But the rest is not even grade D spelling: ded? guinee? servnig? (maybe they are dyslexic activists?) They’ve got no idea of punctuation and the fact they’ve resorted to the lazy use of “texting” style (u rather than you) means my respect for them is zero. I’ve no real problem with people expressing their opinions but if you’re going to protest then do it properly.
The really sad thing is that the brick landed plum on one our Abyssinians, killing it on the spot, without so much as a final squeak. So now the activists have a guinea pig death on their conscious like it or not. Ironic, eh.