Now that I am officially more skint than ever thanks to my teeth I thought I’d punish them to a grueling curry that I can’t afford.
It’s a curry house near me that slightly scares me. They are fantastic and do great curries, but I made a faux pas there before Christmas and I’m scared they remember me and hate me.
Basically, to add to my trauma of teeth, impending bankruptcy and trying to fund an Edinburgh show my glasses had decided to break. The frames just snapped.
You may have guessed that I couldn’t quite afford a new pair, so me and Emm went off to buy curry, beer and superglue.
This, however, meant me walking in the street without my glasses.
Impressively I managed rather well, only once talking to a lamppost thinking it was a blonde.
However, by the time the mini adventure was almost over I fucked up. We were back in the curry house to pay and pick up the food. The gentleman at the counter handed me the glorious smelling bag of spice.
I handed over a twenty pound note.
He took the note.
There was a slightly awkward pause.
He said “I’ll give you a discount, that’s £20 thenâ€
I was confused, emm showed me the calculator. In place of till or bill he had just shown me a calculator with the total of £22. I must have looked like some horrible cocky wanker, though I had not seen the sum, nor even the calculator.
I tried to explain about my glasses and ifnd another couple of quid, but he insisted I pay only £20. Now what do I do?
Run away. And so I did.
But every time since that I have been back I leave an extra large tip. But he looks at me funny.