Spam's Off.

Following a fleeting visit to the clinical chaps for a drop in check up and a cup of hospital cappucino (?), my renal stats continue to excel, our kidney is fine and just dandy thank you for asking. Why yes, little pancreas is also performing like a star actor learning lines well and giving a superb performance.

Much like the customer service operative at our little local cinema the other day....allow me to explain:

The combination of a hot day and the premise of a good film enticed us into the local air conditioned cinema;

where dinner can be delivered to your seat during the show.
 Yes, on a plate, not just thrown at you in the dark....
In order to minimise the time spent queuing and ordering our evening repast I arrived early to confirmthe food order.

Fish and chips please, delivered to Row F, seats 5 and 6.

Sorry, the fish is off.

(Sensing a spot of opportunistic mischief making)
Well in that case can we have 2 fresh ones....

This was received about as well as Lady Gaga arriving at the Surbition Ladies Guild Knitting Festival.

We don't have any fish, its off the menu, the teenager helpfully explained, with a look of pure condescension.

Ha, perhaps someone should run to the supermarket I quipped. (It's a  five minute walk, or less than 2 minutes in a car)

The pimply one looked aghast. Not at the thought of actually going to the shops, but at the horror of having to deal with someone so unbelievably insensitive to modern catering practices..His mouth spoke words but his dagger eyes spoke volumes.

We're not allowed, it comes in a delivery truck every morning.

I'd better back off from this fishy assault and get back to thinking inside the box.
Ho hum then, 2 pizzas please, assuming they are not "off" too, of course.
I paid and shimmied out the door, pleased with my efforts at shaking the tree of corporate customer service and making this branch of platitudes wobble, if only ever so slightly.

Oh  and if you were drawn here by the Python reference, then I'm sorry, but Monty's off.