Anise had a date.
Unfortunately, it was a bad date.
Well, no, that's a bit harsh. It was good at first. It was good through the pre-dinner drink. It was good through the entree*. And then the good ended when Anise realised that her date had a crush on her sister. Her sister. Her blood-sucking soul-leaching humour-killing thermal-wearing sister.
At one point, Bad Date excused himself (possibly to check his Siobhan web cam; who knows) and Anise sent me a frazzled text which was, unusually for her, 90% swear words. (The other words were mainly "AAAAAAARGH!!") I suggested doing the old 'going to the bathroom and never returning' trick but Anise has better manners than I do and ended up sitting awkwardly through a main** and a coffee before she could make a run for it.
The best part? When she politely refused a second outing, Bad Date asked her to put in a good word with Siobhan. Then -- and this is probably the point where I would have started stabbing him with a corkscrew -- he divided up the bill and pointed out that she had drunk more wine than he had so she should pay for two-thirds of the bottle. Mmm. Form an orderly queue, ladies!
Anise had post-date cocktails here. (I invented a new one called Misery Loves Company. It involves chocolate.) We sat on the balcony and listened to the teenagers upstairs work their way through a playlist of horrors. (Honestly, whoever's released that song with the 'Everybody's Talkin' sample should be shot.) By the end of the night, Anise was consoled by the inescapable fact that if someone thinks Siobhan is their dream woman, there's clearly something very, very, very, very wrong with them.
* Anise would like me to add at this point that lemongrass, while tasty, does not work as a puree, thank you, fancy restaurant.
** Neither does chicken.