(In a noughties non-gender specific way)
In keeping with the anonymous nature of the web, and to allow me to share some stories of my fellow lunchers whilst minimising the risk, perhaps slightly reducing the risk of upsetting them, I will refer to them with somewhat random nicknames. In order of appearance:
· RB (aka the Rugger Bugger) – quality not quantity is the motto for this bloke, pity the team that he supports can adopt his motto on the footy pitch. Thanks to this guy though, portion size is one of the restaurant scoring criteria.
· Flying – in recognition that he has a fast car, even if it is not red.
· Cherry – almost as American as the cola.
· Harry – an English rose, in no way to be confused with HRH, the son of Captain Hewitt.
· Me/I/occasionally the royal we – your humble typist.
Some other occasional random honorary lads that make appearances from time to time include:
· Choir Boy – archenemy of RB, known for his ability to out drink, out sing and out eat our tough man.
· Ranter – Australia’s alternative to the whinging Pom.
· The Bearded One – the equine fanatic, making occasional guest appearances from the other side of the ditch.
· The Office Manager – known for making the greatest warm sauerkraut east of Berlin (if this isn’t a culinary oxymoron, I am not sure what is).
· Big Trouble – in acknowledgment of the limited time I have spent in east London (noting that any time in east London is too much time in east London).
· Little Trouble – little only in stature, causes more trouble, makes more noise that Big Trouble will ever do.
