Chapter 92

AN EVENING OUT

A young married couple, Nicola and Thomas, hired a taxi for a whole evening. They had in mind to first call at a public house for a drink or two, from there to go on to a restaurant and then to finish their outing by taking a ride in an open carriage in the town park. The agreed fare would be £100.00. An excerpt from the dialogue that took place in the cab is given below:

Thomas: Right, we’ll start with a drop of good cheer. Please take us to the Hussar, driver.

Cabbie: I wouldn’t go there if I were you, sir.

Thomas: Oh, may I ask why you say that?

Cabbie: It’s snooty, the sort of place where they make you feel uncomfortable when they think you are not their type. I’m sure you know what I mean. The prices are very high and the drinks are nothing to write home about. I’ll take you there if you insist, but you’d be better of at the Nag’s Head.

Nicola: I don’t fancy that. I’ve heard it’s a spit and sawdust establishment and I hope we don’t strike you as potential patrons of such a place.

Cabbie: I grant you it’s a bit rough but you can get tanked up there for half what you’d pay at the Hussar, the booze is better and so is the company.

Thomas: Look, this is none of your business. Just do as we ask. When we’re ready to move on, we’ll have dinner at the Palace in Regent Road.

Cabbie: I wouldn’t recommend that.

Thomas: I don’t care what you’d recommend but as a matter interest, what have you got against our choice?

Cabbie: Just about everything. It costs a packet to eat there and it’s unhygienic.

Nicola: In what way?

Cabbie: Well, for one thing the cooks and waiters think they’re God’s gift to the diners. Condescending is the word, madam. There’s every chance somebody on the staff will take a dislike to you for no good reason and if that happens, you can bet that one of the chefs will be doing something nasty to your food.

Nicola: Oh, dear. Anything else?

Cabbie: You bet. One of their favourite tricks is to get an empty bottle of top-class wine, fill it with the cheapest plonk they can get, recork it and present it as the real McCoy. A friend of mine knows a lot about these things and they offered him what they said was a Gevrey-Chambertin, Premier Cru. He swears what he got was Beaujolais Nouveau.

Thomas: Astonishing. If that’s true, how do they get away with it?

Cabbie: It’s a question of percentages, sir. They know that on average, only one party in five complains. The others are either too shy to make a fuss, or they’ve had a bevvy or two before they dine, so they don’t realise they’re being swindled. That way the restaurant foists them off with rubbish eighty percent of the time. Makes sense from their point of view.