Twenty minutes

A groan escaped from the waiter standing at the far side of the
dining room as the familiar figure entered, an impervious expression on
his wrinkled face. Without removing his coat, he marched curtly towards
the chrome sweet trolley, observing it gravely, as though he were
examining the foul contents of a waste disposal unit.

"Good evening sir" the waiter sprang forward defensively, drawing an
apprehensive breath. "We trust you find everything to your liking this
evening".

"Indeed?" the man sneered, prodding the gateaux disdainfully with one
podgy finger, "If ever I do find the catering in this bloody
establishment to be acceptable, you have my assurance that you will be
informed."

With a condescending smirk he complacently flicked a freshly starched
handherchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe the cream from his
hands.

Allocated a table within earshot, a middle aged woman fidgeted
uncomfortably, tugging on her tweed skirt. She'd encountered this type
many times before, having served ten years within the DHSS. Although
she was no prude, she hated to hear a man swear. Averting her gaze, she
fiddled aimlessly with the cutlery.

"Are you ready to order madame?"

Jolted by the sudden intrusion, her elbow caught against the crystal
water jug, sending it crashing to the floor. Apologising profusely, she
fell to her knees, pathetically sponging the spillage with a napkin,
her face burning with embarrassment.

"Please madame, allow me." Exasperated, the waiter feigned sympathy as
muffled smans erupted amongst the diners.

Eyes stinging, the woman caught sight of the arrogant man, still
positioned by the desserts, leering down at her. It was at this moment
that she realised in horror that, like herself, he sported a carnation
on his left lapel. Having disguised her own discreetly amongst the
bread sticks, she stumbled sobbing from the room, in her haste
colliding with a pair of newly-weds kissing passionately in the
lobby.

With a possessive hand firmly clenched around his wife's bottom, the
groom skilfully guided her, giggling, towards the honeymoon table.
Collapsing into their seats, her delighted squeals were unmistakable as
he ravenously nibbled her ear.

In return he gave a lustful groan as her hands disappeared beneath his
shirt, eagerly seeking the pleasures to come.

Reverand Oddstaff, witnessing the unexpected floorshow, was becoming
increasingly overexcited. Known for his sensitive nature, he finally
found it all too much when the brides garter inadvertently crept into
view. Gasping for air he promptly collapsed into his steak and kidney
pudding.

Recovering from his choking fit with the aid of a napkin and a glass of
water, he turned to the waiter and spluttered, "I should have had what
he's having."

"Well it asppears sir will be having the breast tonight," the waiter
mused, gathering a bundle of menus for their table.

"I think you'll find he had that in reception," an elderly lady
intruded, delighted by the evenings entertainment. she nudged the
waiter mischievously, adding, "By all accounts it looks as though he's
settled for the tongue."