Written by Rebbecca Hemmings
Ideas created by: John, David, Jackie, Phillip, David, Leslie, Martin, Leana, Helen, Pam, Steve and Jimmy from the California Church, Quinton, Birmingham.
The creators of this story were challenged with coming up with a tale that suitably matched the title, based on their own experiences with food.
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“I’ve had enough of this!” said John to his team mate David.
“This is the seventh time in row we have lost a match! I mean 32 to 2 is just unheard of!”
John was referring to the fact that his football team Quinton Villa had been at the bottom of the league for well over a year. Coincidentally, the same amount of time they inherited a new manager the notorious Roger Quagmire. He had become manager automatically after his brother Simon had suddenly passed away whilst on a trip abroad.
Roger Quagmire was a nasty piece of work, unlike his brother Simon had been. Simon had managed the Quinton Villa for 6 years. All the players loved him. He was mild-manner, fair and an all-round great person to be around; everything that his brother Roger was not. It seemed that all Roger was interested in was his status as a football team manager and sponsorship money. He was constantly shouting at the players and putting them down. This led to team moral being very low.
John felt really awful that as captain of the team, he could not inspire his team to do better during games. He was really getting worked up.
“Calm down John. I have an idea. What we need to do as a team is have some fun. Let’s all go out for a meal or something without what’s- his- face and relax and have fun just like we did in the good ‘ole days. We just need to take our mind of the game for a little while. These loses are becoming a drain on our energy” Said David.
So, the guys had all agreed to meet at Raj Indian Restaurant to drown their sorrows with lots of drinks and to fill their hard-working bodies with spicy Indian treats. Everyone knew not to tell Roger.
“Isn’t this great?” said John to his fellow team mates as that sat around the table at the restaurant.
“...us meeting together like this, having fun, for once. Ok, so we’ve had a bad patch but we know we’re brilliant players, we just need to relax and recoup sometimes, without him always breathing down our necks.”
“Too right!” Shouts a player.
“Miserable old dog. He told me I’m a rubbish striker and always will be. How am I supposed to play a good game when I’ve got those words in my head?” shouted the Striker of the team.
“We are an outstanding team when we put our minds to it and the best is yet to come. We just need to get our minds in the right place. Look, we’ve done it in the past. When Simon was here we were top of the league. We can do it again! We really can. So, we don’t have the best manager in the world, but we can still win if we just focus on it. Come on lads, let’s raise our glasses to the future success of the Quinton Villa!” roared John.
Without any hesitation the players raised their glasses and bellowed a loud cheer, only to be abruptly interrupted by an unwanted familiar voice.
“Hello lads, fancy seeing you here!”
It was none other than Roger Quagmire, their team manager. All the players’ faces dropped, as Roger rudely grabbed a chair from a neighbouring table and pushed a player out of the way to make room for him. John could not believe that he had found out about their secret meeting. What was going to be a lovely, agro free time without their tyrant manager was now turning into a nightmare meal.
Roger ignorantly clicked his fingers at the waiter and demanded a chicken vindaloo: “…of the hottest kind!”
“A fiery hot meal for a real red-blooded man! Not of this korma rubbish like what John’s got. Wimp! No wonder you can’t play a decent game! I don’t know how you became Captain anyway. Simon must have been soft in the head when he chose you!” Remarked Roger.
John sat quietly, biting his tongue. The other players just stared into their dishes, wishing they were somewhere else.
“So lads, you forgot my invite.” Said Roger, looking around at the players.
There was silence around the table, no one dared to look up.
“It’s alright; you don’t have to say anything. You pay a cleaner a few extra bob and they’ll tell you anything you want to know. Not much gets past me.”
John was annoyed but he decided it was best to hold his tongue. He could see that the other players had lost their enthusiasm for the meal. Roger had just taken over. He had taken the opportunity to berate the players about their ‘poor’ performance on the pitch, again! He told them how he was ashamed of them and that the only reason he stuck with them is to honour his brother’s memory. All the players knew that the real reason was because he earned quite a lot of money from being their manger. They would do almost anything to get rid of him but they were stuck as they knew Simon was very fond of his brother and wanted to see him do well.
Roger was increasingly getting on everyone’s nerves, including the restaurant staff. He kept shouting at the waiters, to: “bring the food quicker!” and to, “Make sure the food is hot enough”. The players bowed their heads in shame. None of them were brave enough to say anything to try and kerb his bad behaviour.
Finally, Roger got up to go to the bathroom, not before rudely ordering the waiter to have his chocolate gateau waiting for him when he returns, “Or else!”
When he was gone the players all breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, he’s doing my head in!” retorted one player.
“He’s ruined our entire night out. I might as well have stayed at home with the Mrs.” said another.
“Lads, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” said John sorrowfully.
David stood up and smiled.
“What are you smiling at? There really is nothing to smile about.” Said John, puzzled.
“Oh, there will be. Look, I know a way we can give Old Roger here a taste of his own medicine.” replied David. With that he reached into his pocket and took out a box of what looked like medication. He told them that they were tablets to help him with his ‘toilet problem’. Some of the guys looked confused. He explained that he sometimes had a problem ‘going to the toilet.’
John asked “What do mean, like doing a pee?”
Smiling, David shook his head. He told them that these tablets helped to make ‘everything’ a lot softer and easier to leave his body. The men all rolled in laughter.
A player asked, “Do you mean that it’s gives you the runs?”
David’s lips turned into a huge grin. The other player’s faces started to brighten up as they listened keenly.
“So what are you planning to do?” asked the striker.
“Well with a little help from our waiter friend, who is just as sick and tired of Roger as we are! Let’s just say that that chocolate gateau will be a dessert our Roger will not forget in a hurry.”
At that precise moment Roger returned. At the same time the waiter placed Roger’s ‘tailor-made’ chocolate gateau in front of him.
“Ah great, so you lazy idiots are good for something?” Yes, I do love my desserts; this gateau is about to get pulverised!”
All the players, fought hard to hold back their laughter as they quietly watched Roger gulp chomp on and gulp down the dessert like a starving chimpanzee.
John couldn’t resist asking, “How’s the gateau Roger?”
“Not as good as the one my mum used to make but it’s a close second. Whoever knew these imbeciles could produce such a tasty dessert? Ah, but thinking about it, they probably bought it. They don’t look like they would know how to make something as delicious as...”
Roger stopped mid sentence as his stomach growled. All the players watched him intently.
“What’s the matter Roger?” Asked John with a fake look of concern on his face?
“Err... nothing, just a bit of wind. I’m alright, nothing a man can’t handle. Said Roger, meekly.
All of a sudden Roger let out the loudest fart ever. The whole restaurant went silent and turned in Roger’s direction. His face went pale in embarrassment.
“What are you all looking at? Haven’t you ever heard a man let out a bit of gas before? Nosey beggars! Turned around and eat your…”
By now his face had turned bright red. He has put down his fork and he gripped his stomach, clearly in discomfort. At that moment, he let out an even louder and longer fart than the first one. It sounded very wet and bubbly. Daniel couldn’t help saying:
“Roger mate that reeks, I think you need to get yourself to the toilet!”
The others players stifled their laughter as they watched their manager wriggle in clear discomfort.
Roger stood up and started to painfully walk away from the table as he started to say “That’s a good...”
Then he all of a sudden he froze. The players froze, the waiters froze, in fact the whole restaurant froze as they stared at Roger’s trousers in disbelief.
Daniel broke the silence by saying, “Mate, it looks like you’ve had an accident.”
With that, the whole place came alive with roars of laughter from the players and snorts of disgust from some restaurant guests. Some of players fell off their chairs as they howled at Roger’s unfortunate accident. Some people got up and left their food on the tables as they hurriedly paid the waiters so they could be removed from the stench of Roger’s mishap. Others (mainly the players) started getting their phones and cameras out and took pictures of the infamous Roger Quagmire with the suspicious looking smelly, brown patch on the back of his trousers. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, his most embarrassing moment of his career was being uploaded to Facebook and Twitter and was being sent to people’s loved ones via picture messages.
John felt a little sorry for Roger, for a split second, and then he remembered just how badly he had treated them over the years. He had had the team at near breaking point! With those thoughts he suggested that they move to a pub or somewhere where he said:
“It doesn’t stink as much!”
With that the football team got up, cheering, shouting and laughing as they left the restaurant carrying Daniel and John on their shoulders. Behind them they could just about hear the manager of the restaurant telling Roger in an angry mixture of Punjabi and English, that he isn’t going anywhere until he cleaned his rotten, stinking mess from their award winning restaurant and paid them for the lost custom.
And that readers, is how the creators of this story decided how the worst meal turned into the best occasion ever!
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