'Madam, why are you lying down in our cafe tucked up underneath the receipt we gave you for your coffee?' says the manager.
'Just mebbe making a point,' says I, 'about the size of the said receipt, and the size of the receipt you gave me last week, and the week before that, and about the fact that each of them has to be the equivalent of a small rainforest or my name's not
'In fact, every week, I swear the receipt has got bigger than the week before. Either that, or I'm shrinking, in which case my bathroom scales have been misleading me and need servicing.'
'Madam, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we have to close the shop now. We can't leave you there all night.'
'No problem,' says I. 'Just chuck me that cushion there for a pillow, and I'll be lovely and warm 'til the morning snuggled up underneath this portion of Brazil's economy. And if you could just send a couple of your stronger assistants along at around 8 to get this thing off me, I'd be grateful, then I can go to work. Not sure I can manage it alone.'
'Madam, I really must ask you to move.'
'Did someone speak? I really can't hear very well from under here.'
'Right. Have it your way, Madam. I just need to make a phone call.'
|Evidence that the cafe owner had sounded distraught when calling the emergency services|