There was something odd about the couple next to us. As we waited for our table, She returned to the table, pint for him, bottle of wine for her.
HE: How much is this costing? Drag me away from the football all the way to nowhere and for what?
SHE: I'm trying to save this relationship. What do you say to that?
HE: mumble. mumble.
SHE: Oh yeah, once we're done, you can go back to that slut.
We started reading the menu aloud. Then we tried naming the Bond films in order. Anything to drown out the sound of heartbreak from the next table. Whenever we ran out of conversation, they'd be there.
SHE: Fine. You carry on banging her, if that's what you want to do. I don't deserve this treatment.
HE: This cod is burnt. Can you see? All along the side.
They weren't much to look at. She was wearing Nervous RE teacher. He was just a toad with a combover. I tried to imagine him having sex with anyone. It just didn't seem likely.
SHE: (screaming) What is it? Do you want me to wear stockings and suspenders?
Oddly, she didn't come across as that sympathetic. He was obviously a louse who didn't deserve her pity, but her approach was unnerving - furious grovelling.
SHE: (icy) I take then that I'm to leave Mr Potter alone.
HE: Are you paying for this?
SHE: Here's the money. I'm going to the toilet. You've done everything you can to ruin this evening.
She left for the toilet and never came back. He sat in silence for an hour, and then melted away.
I prayed they weren't sharing a B&B.