I was stood in line waiting to buy some fish today behind a lady that was placing an order for some fish she wanted for Christmas. I couldn’t hear what the guy in the white coat said to her when she read out her order, but her response suggested she needed a whole team of men in white coats to help her out, and none of them would need any knowledge of filleting or skinning.
The lady suddenly said “I’m going to be cooking this Turbot on Christmas Eve, will I be happy with it?”
“What the …… “I thought. I looked at the fish guy intrigued to know how he’d handle this one. He looked blankly at her, then at her husband and then at me. His mouth opened but nothing came out.
I wanted to interject on his behalf and say ‘Madam how the *&#@ does he know if you will be happy or not, he’s fishmonger not a soothsayer?
Now if you mean will the fish be fresh, will it be what you want or will it perform ‘Good King Wenceslas’ for you that’s another matter, but ask him that and don’t talk in riddles we’re not filming an episode of Batman here we’re trying to buy some fish.”
I didn’t though I just kept quiet as the fish guy meekly said ‘I think so’
