It was on my early cellebration of my 28th year of being single that I was accosted again by a drunken English chap from Liverpool.
After being delighted with sinfull pork ribs with barbecue sauce potato wedges we were approached from "ein Typ" who came by smelling of too many beers asking why two lovely ladies like us would be alone in a bar like that.
We told him we were cellebrating my birhtday (me and my friend Helen) and he was brave enough (or sober enough) to ask for my age. I asked jokingly if his mother never taught him that it is unpolite to ask a ladies age.... he laughed and tried to guess my age.
He told me I looked not one day after 23. Oh joy.
Any way, he asked to sit down and I indicated the chair beside me. He promptly sat down and started to snore. Me and Helen smiled at each other, payed the bill and left him there. I wish he had taken a picture.
Happy birthday to meee!
