Harry's Blog

Dammit he got me annoyed. Who? The useless twonk that works in my local Burger King, that's who.

Jo and I were heading out to collect my wedding suit but I hadn't had breakfast yet, so I decided to pop in and get a bacon sandwich and my beloved asked for a black coffee.

Back in a minute, I say, then I get out of the car and enter the restaurant, not imagining the frustration that would await me.

At first all goes well, food is ordered with little fuss.

Mr Soon-to-be-discovered-as-a Twonk rings up the black coffee on the till as a latte, but I assume that's just the way the system works.

But the machine that spits out something like coffee looked like it spat out something a bit lighter than coffee too.

Twonk: Here's your coffee sir.
Me: This is a black coffee isn't it?
Twonk: Yes sir, black coffee.

Twonk then went to microwave my fresh "flame grilled" breakfast and coax some heat into the hash browns. I sniffed at the coffee and tried to poke away the bubbles that had formed. I took a sip. Definitely had milk in it.

Me: This coffee has milk in it.
Twonk: Yes sir, more milk over there.
Me: No, I don't want coffee with milk, I ordered a black coffee.
Twonk: Yes sir, that is a black coffee.
Me: It is not a black coffee, black coffee doesn't have milk in it.
Twonk: Yes sir, you ordered white coffee.
Me: I ordered a black coffee, I asked you when you brought it back was it a black coffee and you said yes.
Twonk: Yes sir, black coffee with milk.
Me: Right then. Can I please have a black coffee... without milk?
Twonk: Yes sir, of course sir.

I stomped out of Burger King feeling really pissed off. Pissed off with the idiot working at Burger King, pissed off with Burger King for employing someone so stupid and pissed off with myself for harbouring views following this encounter I tend to find abhorrent.

But at least I got Jo the black coffee she asked for, another modern-day knight in shining armour moment¹.

Look. I don't give a shit either way about immigration. Come one, come all, there's plenty of room. I don't even care if you can't speak well enough to understand me when I'm trying to tell you where I'd like your Nissan Sunny taxi to take me².

If you work at Burger King I don't care whether you know enough English to hold a pleasant conversation with me, or understand Hamlet or can write me an essay on Catholic emancipation in the nineteenth century.

All I ask for, please, is to learn enough fucking English to encompass the actual fucking menu. Okay?

_{¹Life really is shite for heroes these days isn't it? You can't rescue your woman from a castle or anything, you just have to try and prize a black coffee out of a Burger King drone that hasn't yet learned the English words for "without milk" "black" "white" and probably "burger".
²Rather you than some thick chav muppet complaining about immigration.}