Not somewhere we go a lot, but we were passing last Sunday, and it was lunchtime.
It was packed.
Pandemonium.
I grabbed two seats, clearing a path through the squashed fries, and wiped a table, whilst my mum queued up.
A woman came out of the loo, and came up to me. No one else.
Thrust something in my hand, and said you should read this.
A quick glance confirmed it was some religious text, so I smiled, politely, said no thanks, and offered it her back.
'Read it! I was told more forcibly, with the further information that if I didn't I'd die a sinner in the bowels of Hell.
A firmer no thanks, but she was still bangin' on.
I explained that if I read it or not, her, and her church would still see me as a damned sinner, but I was really very happy with this situation.
Eventually she returned to the people at her table.
I could tell with my mum's face she wasn't too happy in the noisey madhouse.
I went across and said we'd leave, and find somewhere more restful to eat lunch.
If you were in there, I hope you enjoyed the floorshow.
The floorshow being me turning mental, going over to the disciples table and shouting at the top of my voice, that if she ever saw me again, not to preach her vile filth to me, and she can stich her little booklet up her Parson's nose, and give herself a good finger lickin' experience.
Happily for her it was only a one act performance.
It would have been two, after I'd explained to my mum what had happened, but I managed to get her out into the car, before bringing down the final curtain.
Not somewhere we'll ever be going back to, anytime soon.
(The performance was free to stage by the way. No funding from the state was used.)
