Friday, 29 October 2010

On the recipe for foot in mouth

Today, whilst waiting for a train from Vienna to one of its surrounding villages, Ebreichsdorf, I was sat on a bench with my girlfriend, discussing baby names. The platform was pretty empty except for a smattering of people and an old guy sat next to us, chomping on a pastry and minding his own.

The conversation began with a reference to MacGyver, details not relevant here, and me then saying when we have kids, we should wait to see what they're good at and then name them after someone respected in that field (this is actually a lie - my suggestions were things like naming them Food, if they're good at cooking). Anyways, Jamie Oliver was a name thrown out kind of randomly by Vicky and after a little discussion consisting primarily of me slagging him off, I said, and I quote, "I am not naming my son after that fat-tongued twat," following this up with a string of minor insults, ending with, "he's a good chef, but a cock."

Throughout this, the chap next to us had smirked a little. I assumed because he found the prospect of a crazy English couple (he later remarked how un-Austrian Vicky sounded, even when speaking in her native tongue) naming their firstborn McGyver, hilarious. It's a known fact that Austrians have no sense of humour so there's no way he thought we were joking. His smirk was justified.

He then, rather surprisingly, piped up with, "Do you know Jamie?" and I, rather arrogantly, assumed he was just showing us that he understood us and could speak some English relevant to our conversation. I politely responded that I didn't know him personally but knew his food. I may have even insulted him again to my girlfriend for good measure. The chap then proceeded to hand me a business card, showing him to be a professional chef himself, and announced, "I am a friend of Jamie's."

He and Vicky then shared some conversation in German that I chose to ignore, since I felt like a bit of a cunt, but it transpired that he and Jamie Oliver had indeed spent some time working together under the tutelage of a respected German chef.

Maybe I should be more careful who I insult in earshot of complete strangers in future - celebrities have feelings too after all - but really, what are the odds of a personal friend of a celebrity, sitting right next to me, in a country neither call home, at the precise moment I choose to briefly insult said celebrity, whilst waiting for a train to go to a village no-one outside of Austria has ever heard of?!

And if you're reading this Mr Gruber, I still think your mate is a fat-tongued twat.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh but Jamie is great ! Good Luck on the children front :-)