Never eat at a restaurant where they have to switch the lights on and take down the chairs from the table.
We had passed the gaunt waiter on the way in, leaving in a biker's jacket. Moments later he was taking our order.
The pork medallions arrived suspiciously quickly, along with a dish of swede we hadn’t asked for.
The coast clear. My wife looked at me with panic. I whispered ‘We should run. Going hungry is better than this.’
Of course, we paid. But we left with the knowledge that the swede was in the vase on the windowsill.