The quality of the food at this little pub we know relates directly to which of the three different chefs is on shift.

The owner chef.

The new chef.

Or the one-legged old chef.

Three Chefs.

When the owner makes food, it’s good.

The new chef’s food is not very good.

And the one legged old chef’s food is really, really good.

The One Legged Old Chef.

Last year, when the one legged old chef had two legs.

Shifts were split between him and the owner.

All good.

But when the two legged old chef had time off to have his leg off.

New chef came in and did almost all of the hours.

The balance was gone.

And so was the food quality.

Say something. 

I think I’ll say something to the owner.

And I’m glad that the one legged old chef is a better chef than two legged new chef.

Because if it was the other way around, I might have been accused of being leggist.

Which I am definitely not.

It’s Better to Know.

I don’t like complaining.

Few do.

But it’s best that the owner knows about the inconsistency.

And I’d like to know if I’m going to get a nice meal.

So when I do say something I’ll keep it subtle.

And sensitive.

“Hey John!”

I might shout across the bar,

“How many legs does the chef have this evening?”

Something like that.

As I say, subtle.

And sensitive.

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