Everything was following our usual pattern. She happily recounting my failings of the past month while I play a game staring at the spotlights then shutting my eyes and counting the coloured dots I can see.
I was thinking the pancakes were a bit pricey until three waiters came out bearing the weight of this culinary behemoth!
It’s hard to communicate the sheer girth of the thing, so I shot it next to a blue whale to give a sense of proportion.
See what I mean?
As a result, I spent the whole of yesterday with terrible stomach cramps, along with clamminess and a general sense of foreboding.
I assumed the feeling of doom was a result of the cricket rather than the pancake. But then THIS dropped into my inbox at 5:29 from the MD:
do not leave the building - we need to chatChat!?!
Now there’s an email guaranteed to give anyone the willies. I ran to the toilet to... gather myself, the cold hand of DM death firmly clamped to my shoulder.
As I sat quivering there was however one thought that brought me solace.
I’ve often heard it said that, paradoxically, it’s always the talentless arseholes who keep their jobs and the decent people that get sacked.
Sure enough, he breezes over an hour later (by which time I was a gibbering wreck) to ‘chat’ about some client amends.
So let this be a warning to those of you considering eating a giant chocolate pancake. Just think on. IT COULD COST YOU YOUR JOB.