Every little helps to keep you talking

I honestly thought we were never going to get shut of the guy from Tesco.

He spotted the Leffe in our delivery crates. “I see you like Leffe,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Leffe. That’s how you say it, right?”
“Do you mean Leffe?”
“Yeah, Leffe. Wasn’t really sure how you said it.”
“Leffe, I think is how they say it in Belgium”.

He then started to talk about beer and one “we don’t sell called Blue something”. Or something Blue. I can’t remember what he said the name of it was and anyway the chances were he was saying it wrong. I foolishly mentioned the Belgian Monk and all the beer there and he was away with tales of beers from around the world, most of which he couldn’t pronounce.

We would have stood on the step all day talking about the amber nectar but fortunately back-up arrived to help me unload the shopping.

“Do you watch that?”, the delivery man said pointing to my glamorous assistant’s t-shirt. “I read the graphic novels”, he adds before she can get a word in. “In my day we called them comics…”

I removed the toilet rolls from the delivery crate trying not to catch his eye. The last thing I wanted was a in depth conversation right now about toilet time and a lengthy discussion about how to pronounce Andrux. Andrex! Sorry, now he’s got me at it.

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