There are so many things wrong with this tale but it has to be shared: it is a perfect, blindingly brilliant observation of just how fecking stupid & brain dead people can be.
Whilst I was out on the weekend (yes, doing that smiling thing), The Ex (as he shall henceforth be called) took my SIX year old son out on a pub crawl. I did not make that up. He did. See? Wrong on so many levels already.
Well, supposedly they had a fine old time - visiting the least skanky of Newcastle's beer gardens (consult The Burglar's Dog if you are in any way unsure of a particular beer garden's virtue: it'll save a lot of shit on your shoe, mark my words) & chatting about, oh I don't know, the virtue of one Monster Truck over another.
Their final port of call (wrong, wrong wrong!!!!) was a certain pub that happens to have a big arch you can sit under. Being the responsible adult that he is, The Ex decided that he couldn't leave small son alone in the beer garden, what with it being a Saturday night and time ticking away towards Pumpkin Hour. So, he took son into the bar. Son climbed up straight away onto a bar stool and played with his Monster Trucks on the bar (the age giveaway is there somewhere, I feel). Dopey, dopey, DIPSTICK of a barmaid came and asked The Ex what his drinking pleasure would be, to which he replied "a pint of Grolsch". Nothing to get excited about there, you're thinking?:
SHE BROUGHT TWO PINTS AND SET THEM DOWN.
To add screaming insult to injury she lent down to my son and said, I KID YOU NOT "Would you like a straw with that?".
Words. Just. Fail. Me.