-- A man and a woman are seen sitting at a table in a posh restaurant.

Woman:		This is nice, Henry.
Henry:		Isn't it? I think it's amazing how restaurants have changed in this country in the last twenty years.
Woman:		Yeah. And what with gastro-pubs and all bar one things, it's just so easy now.

-- The waiter comes to their table

Waiter:		Are you ready to order, _Sir_?
Henry:		Sorry mate. Haven't really had a look yet. But, ehm, can we have a bottle of your house reds to be going on with?
Waiter:		"Mate"? "The house red"? "To be going on with"? Where the _hell_ do you think you are?
Henry:		Sorry?
Waiter:		Do you even know what the house red is? Are you even an expert on wine? Because if you are not, I don't know on _what_ basis you venture to order it.
Henry:		Sorry. What happened to the friendly Australian girl that used to work here?
Waiter:		She's gone, Sir. They've all gone. And we're back.
Henry:		Who?
Waiter:		The incredibly posh people who are still unaccountably waiters. And I'm afraid we've changed the rules.
Henry:		Well, we'd still like to order.
Waiter:		I saw you in here last week. I saw you drinking your soup. I saw you blowing and slurping and dunking your bread. We were watching you on our monitors in the kitchen. And we all thought you were a _dick_.
Henry:		Huff! I don't believe you talk to paying customers like this!
Waiter:		And I can't believe you're continuing with this! You know that I can destroy you. Observe my trolley.

-- The waiter steps aside, showing a trolley with covered plates on it.

Waiter:		These are my weapons.

-- We can see various types of cutlery lying next to the plates. The waiter takes the cover off one of the plates.

Waiter:		Today we are recommending the consommé, -

-- The waiter lifts a soup dish and places it on the table in front of the woman.

Waiter:		-which, as every schoolboy knows, provided your school wasn't _free_, -

-- The waiter swiftly turns to his trolley and picks up a fork before turning back to face the couple.

Waiter:		-is to be consumed _only_ using a vichysoisse fork.

-- The waiter turns to the woman and leans in close to her face, confidentially saying:

Waiter:		It's all in the wrist!

-- The waiter gesticulates, then places the fork next to the woman's dish, turns back to his trolley and lifts the cover off the second plate.

Waiter:		And for Sir: crab!

-- The waiter lifts the plate and puts it down in front of Henry.

Waiter:		Which you are supposed to tackle, using this:

-- The waiter hands Henry a ladel and leans in close to his face, confidentially saying:

Waiter:		Make sure you kill it right, or it's poisonous.

-- The waiter steps back, standing straight next to the table, looking at both of them.

Waiter:		Off you go.

-- Henry and the woman opposite him look at each other, then ensue to lift the utensils they were given by the waiter, intending to exchange it for the one that the other has.

Waiter:		You're _not_ allowed to swap.

-- Both Henry and his female companion are seen attempting to eat their food.

Waiter:		My! My! It's like watching the Generation Game!

-- The waiter leans in close to Henry's face.

Waiter:		I expect that's a reference you "_get_".

-- The waiter resumes his upright position next to the table. Henry puts away the ladel.

Henry:		Right. I've had just about enough of you talking to me like that. I'd like to see the manager.

Waiter:		How could I _possibly_ introduce _you_ to the manager? You haven't shaved, you are not wearing a tie, and you hold your ladel like a _pen_. Now, take your daunting --but gratifyingly mute-- girlfriend and get out.

-- Henry and his girlfriend get up in shock and leave.