The Steak-House Date!


The Salad BarThe other day, being closer to pensionable rather than school age, Mrs Bard and I had a mid-afternoon lunch at what used to be called a steakhouse. It was flattering being the youngest diners in the place! Some of the men were obviously enjoying a rare cooked meal judging by the angle of attack on their plates. A couple in the corner had left it dangerously late for a first date…

Albert Addcombe (sixty-eight),
Went to a steak-house on a first date.
Betty Briggs who’s sixty-one,
Was hoping for a bit more fun!

Albert carefully parked the car,
And headed straight for the salad bar!
Betty, restrained, chose a smallish plate,
While Albert grabbed enough to suffocate!

His giant main course was eaten at speed,
He ate most of hers such was his greed.
And swilled it down with a gallon of lager,
Betty watched with horror this cement-mixer saga!

Then the waitress asked if he could,
Manage to eat anything for pud!
Looking his date square in the eye,
“I think I could manage a little pie!”

The pie arrived like a wagon wheel,
Covered in cream (squirty not real!)
Albert, being one not to be beaten,
Didn’t stop until it was eaten!

Out in the car park “Enjoy the date?”
His Vesuvian belch sealed his fate.
“Come my dear you can drive me home!”
Alas Albert Addcombe was standing alone!

© Baldock Bard 2014
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