A man walks into a bar and is taken by the notice above the kitchen door.
“£500 If We Fail To Fulfill Your Order”
Hmmm, the man thinks for a while and when the waiter comes up to take his order he says;
“Thank you, yes, I’ll have thin strips of braised alligator leg – the front ones you understand, coated in birds nest stock, accompanied by Asparagus from the Champagne-Ardenne, New Zealand rind of lemons, all sprinkled with ground Pinon nuts – and rye bread please.”
Well, the waiter sweats. He takes the order into the kitchen and pandemonium ensues. Pans clatter to the floor, there is the sound of cupboards being ransacked, wails from staff who get bashed by the screaming head chef, waitresses fleeing the kitchen in floods of tears, glasses falling and smashing, more desperate rummaging in cupboards, amid sobs from goodness knows who. Finally, the noise abates and a very angry and disheveled manager comes out and slaps ten fifties onto the man’s table.
“You’re lucky night!” he growls, “been in this business twenty years and it’s the first time we ever ran out of rye bread!”
