Monday, June 20, 2005
Service: * * * *
Food: * * * 1/2
Ambience: * *
Babe Count: * * *
Damon's just done a voice-over session at Primedia across the road. I gave him a lift, due to Wendy using his car today, due to Wendy's car being stuck in Nelspruit for the next week or so while the mechanics have a field day finding things they can charge her for in fixing her blown head gasket.
"What the hell's that?" asks Damon, as I pull a little home-assembled gizmo from my bag. "Dude!!!" he says. "It's not -- it's not --"
"It is," I say.
A while ago, Damon and I invented a babewatching gizmo that would allow both parties at the table to gawk at the same babe, without one of them craning his head round and looking like a lame rubber-necker. It remained an idea, until I got to London.
I say, "I bought the mirror at a 'one pound store' in London."
The device is a bicycle mirror, attached to a dowel rod, with a sturdy bullclip attaching it to the table or chair.
Damon attaches it to the chair, and bends the arm around so that he can see the waitresses behind him. I've got a great seat, so I can watch them bending over the till in their tight black trousers all the time.
"It works! It works!!!" says Damon.
For the rest of the afternoon, Damon's eyes are glued to the mirror. Strangely, not one waitress comes up to us and asks what this thing is.
"I should have bought two mirrors at the pound store," I say.
"Two EACH," says Damon.