1 Dec 2008


Arrived in Hull for work at about 00:30, registered and then popped across road to take this. Being polite and nice, like I am, I went in first to ask if they minded if I took a picture of the outside of their fine establishment. It soon became clear that I had made a large mistake as there was no sign of the boss and instead only Fuck-witted and Demented-dwarf were on duty. Fuck-witted did all of the talking in this increasingly heated and irrelevant exchange as D.dwarf could barely see over the counter – he pulled himself up with his forearms on the counter-top, forearms like corded, tensile steel may I add. Conversation was joined by wizened whore with chips in one hand, bottle of sherry in the other and a severely disfigured face.

Anyway, it went a little something like this:

Me: “Good evening guys – I was just wondering if you’d mind me taking a picture of your shop? It’s for a mate who isn’t here who loves your shop a lot.”

F-W.:…..(blank stare with one good and one glassy eye.)…….

Me:”Is that okay? If I take a quick picture?”

F-W.:…………………

Me:”So, I’ll just take a picture with my phone (brandished phone) outside, okay?”

This got a reaction.

F-W.:”No, no, no, no picture. No picture.”

“No? Is it a problem if I take a picture?”

“No picture, no picture.” (starts waving hand in my face.)

Wizened-Whore joins in:”Shhhlovely place this, slovely.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you. (back to F.W.)Why not? What’s the problem?”

“No picture. I have said.”

“Will you please explain why I can’t take a picture of the outside of your wonderful kebab house? Me and my mate love it here. This is a good thing!”

“Loves this place, slovely.”

“No picture. My boss come tomorrow.”

“I’m not here tomorrow. Look, legally you can’t stop me taking a picture of your shop – I was just being polite when I asked.”

“No picture.”

“Why not?”

“Boss may not like.”

“Why not? It’s great marketing.”

“No picture. I have said. Leave now.”

“Listen mate, you cannot stop me taking a picture of you or your shop. It’s completely legal and you are being rather dim-witted about this.”

At this juncture of the exchange a large, fat English bloke turned up with a disheveled look, barely covered beer-gut and a bashed in face that I recognized from our last visit as that of the delivery man. I turn to him in mild-desperation to salvage this expedition with an iota of good-will.

“Excuse me mate, can I borrow you for a minute. Can you tell this bloke that I want to take a picture of the shop for a mate who loves it but hasn’t driven up with me today?”

Fat-Bloke: (to F.W.) “Let him take a picture Hamed, can’t hurt.”

Me: “And it’s good marketing.”

Whore: “Wanna chip hansum?”

Me:”No thanks, but thanks.”

F.W.:”No picture, no picture!”

At this point I have had quite enough of the Bodrum experience.

“Okay, I’m off and I’m taking a picture. Thanks.”

“NO PICTURE!”

“Balls!”

And I went outside and took it. Wizened-whore left with me but I soon made it clear I wasn’t going to ‘partake’ so she stumbled off. In pic you can see D.Dwarf on left and Fuck-witted in middle with big fat delivery bloke.

Then I went to hotel bar, had a pint and crashed.



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