“900 gram T-Bone steak to go Squire.”

“What you talking about?”

“This is, unless my profound dyslexia indicates otherwise, a Steak House establishment I believe so serve me up me T-Bone and I’ll be on me way.”

“Look matey boy you’ve got more front than Buckingham Palace. You just can’t come in here pushing your weight around demanding fresh meat. Don’t you realize who I am?”

“No squire I have no idea who you are and furthermore couldn’t give a tupenny toss either. Steak now!”

“Big mistake you’ve just made there sunshine. For whilst it is true as you rightly observe this is a stake house yet we do not sell meat.”

“Fucking good steak house that is then – what’s the point of that. Don’t suppose you could do me a bit of sirloin then?”


“Rump……..Fillet….Rib Eye?”

“Fuck me we don’t sell meat – get that through your thick skull or you’ll find I have a stake that will more than adequately serve that very purpose.”

“So you do sell steaks then?”

“Oh yes we do – mainly head stakes though.”

“Oh well that’s a cut I never had – give us one of those then.”

“You sure about this?”

“’Corse I’m sure – wouldn’t have been so stupid to ask for something I’m not sure about would I tosspot!”


“Everything all right out there in the shop Vlad my love only I thought I heard a rumpus.”

“All OK luv just another satisfied customer. It doesn’t get much better than customer satisfaction I find.”




    1. It is odd how – historically – Vlad fascinates me. I keep coming back to him without realizing it at the time. Most odd – perhaps I was a serial killer in a former life?

    1. Cheers Sir. By the way it occurred to me in the early hours that I have never ‘reviewed’ the books I have of yours from Amazon UK. Would you mind if I did? No problem if you do not wish me to go this route yet so enamoured are Shirl and I with them I feel we should share our enthusiasm.

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