I went to a new evening class last night (last week's one was cancelled), and because I was so early I went to a local Vietnamese restaurant for a time-killing snack. As I was slurping the Jasmine tea, the restaurant began filling up with young chaps who through it was OK to be very rude to the waiter, possibly to 'impress' the woman they were with, but possibly just because they were rude.
Suddenly a rat shot across the floor at such speed you almost couldn't see it. It was bullet-fast. The waiter behind the bar leapt on to a chair, and the other waiter had a quick look around to see who had noticed.
'Was that a rat?' I asked. The waiter came over to the table and muttered 'Yes, we are dealing with them down in the kitchen', and withdrew rapidly. The Rudes had been completely oblivious to the drama; they were busy picking fault with the paint on the panelling in the restaurant.
Was it worth making a fuss? London is teeming with rats, isn't it? Here in the 'burbs, the urban foxes crunch them up and keep the numbers down. They themselves are supposed to be pests, but I prefer them to rats.
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