“Ugh, what the fuck is this?” Stef screwed up his face and nearly spat out the mouthful of spaghetti bolognese that he’d taken from the plate that Brian had just put in front of him.
“Don’t be rude” snapped Brian. “I spent ages cooking that. It’s called soya protein, you know I’m vegetarian now.” “Only when it suits you” Stef mumbled “ain’t that right Steve.” Steve didn’t answer, he was too busy stuffing food into his mouth. He wasn’t worried about how it tasted (and boy, it tasted bad) just so long as he didn’t have to make it. Stef swigged down half a bottle of red wine to help get rid of the taste, as Brian sat down and started eating. After a couple of mouthfuls Brian swigged down a bottle of wine to himself and declared: “you’re right Stef, this is shit, let’s go out to eat.”
After a few arguments about where to go, Stef fancied something Spanish (so no change there then), Steve fancied something Jamaican (so no change there then), and Brian fancied anything (so no change there then), they found a nice little French restaurant.
Stef and Brian spent the evening speaking French and taking the piss out of Steve, and Steve spent the evening telling them to “Fuck Off”.
Stef chewed on some frogs legs (but then the guy had to go home so Stef ordered some food instead). Deciding to forget his veggie stance of the day Brian had coq au vin (but then the guy had to go home so Brian ordered some food instead), and Steve ordered a french tart but didn’t quite get what he expected!
At the end of the evening, and several bottles of wine later they decided it was time to go (the waiter sweeping the floor under their table may have been a slight clue) and they asked for the bill.
“So, who’s paying?” asked Brian, cockily, knowing it wouldn’t be him because he paid for the bill the last time they went out (and he hadn’t bought any money with him anyway). Steve NEVER had any money with him, that way he could NEVER spend any. It was a routine he had perfected over many years, so he couldn’t quite work out why Stef and Brian were even bothering to glare at him.
Stef began to look very pissed off. Why was it that when Brian was paying he be watching his weight “for the fans” and when Stef was paying he’d be stuffing his face? As for Steve, well, don’t even mention Steve. “Looks like it’s me then,” said Stef as he opened the slip of paper. HOW MUCH? FUCK THAT! “I’ll be back in a minute,” said Stef and wandered off to the toilets.
15 minutes later, he still hadn’t returned and the other two were getting rather concerned. “I’ll go and see what he’s up to” declared Brian. “I need to adjust my make-up anyway.” He wandered off. Another 15 minutes went by and no-one came back. Steve decided they were probably have a shag, but 15 minutes was a long time for Brian, so he decided he’d better go and investigate.
He went into the toilets. “Stef, Bri, where are……YOU BASTARDS.” He looked up and saw the small toilet window open with no sign of the others. The bastards had legged it and left him with the bill. Fuck. “Think Steve, think.” He stared at the window. 15 minutes later he was still staring at the window when he suddenly thought “what if I were to go through the window as well?” Yes. Great idea. Unfortunately for Steve he was the only member of the band that didn’t resemble a stick insect and he got stuck. Well and truly stuck.
So a few minutes went by and in wandered the waiter looking for the bastards that had drunk most of the wine cellar, when he found poor Steve stuck halfway in (or out) the tiny window. “Why are ze English so stupid?” he asked as he yanked Steve back inside. “Now look, you have to pay zis bill, if you cannot pay ze bill, you will ‘ave to work it off.” Steve didn’t quite understand what the geezer was saying (he didn’t speak any French you see), but he got the general idea when the man gave him a toothbrush and a bucket and pointed him in the direction of kitchen.
Poor Steve. He scrubbed everything from top to bottom. The wall tiles, the floor tiles, the sinks, worktops, even the fridge. In fact the owner of the restaurant was very impressed and offered him permanent job should he ever become fed up with his bandmates. Fed up! He was way past fed up. He was seething, he was absolutely livid, those two would never hear the last of this, he was going to get his own back if it was the last thing he did. In fact he was just about the grab his coat and go and find them when the owner handed him another toothbrush and bucket and pointed him towards the toilets.
Poor Steve. He scrubbed everything…(you know this bit already!) When he was finished the owner was well impressed. So impressed in fact that he took Steve into the kitchen and gave him a doggy bag of leftovers, and half a bottle of unfinished wine (which, as it was Australian, was only going to be thrown away anyway!) “Thanks” said Steve as he started to leave, “I’ve just gotta get my coat.,” and he wandered back to the toilets.
Well, it just so happens that Steve had left the bucket in the toilets, it was full of the piss, and crap and anything else that he’d just cleared up. “I’ll fucking get ‘em,” he sniggered and he poured some of the contents of the bucket into the doggy bag of coq au vin the owner had just given him, gave it a good shake and said to himself “they’ll be too pissed too notice.” Just for good measure he took a piss in the bottle of wine (he didn’t like red anyway), and went to find his mates.
It was 3 in the morning and there was a knock at Brian’s door. Stef answered it. “Steve” he screamed with laughter “what kept ya?” Brian and Stef burst into fits of laughter as Steve entered the room. “How did you get out of that one then mate?” asked Brian, falling off his chair. Steve remained very calm.
“Quite easily really” said Steve. “I got chatting with the owner and it turns out that his daughter is a huge Placebo fan. Been to gigs an’ everything. It’s her birthday next week, so I signed a few photos for him and he was pleased as punch. Let me off the bill and even gave me some more to eat and drink!”
Stef and Brian suddenly went very quiet.
“You’re not pissed with us are you mate?” asked Brian, “we were only having a laugh.”
“Nah, you’re alright,” said Steve “I’ve even bought you a doggy bag and some wine just to prove there’s no hard feelings. I know you’re always hungry this time of night”.
“Cheers mate, nice to know you can take a joke,” said Stef.
Steve pulled a beer from the fridge, and watched, gleefully, as Brian and Stef tucked in.
THE END