They were a pretty average couple. She in an ill-fitting sundress. He, with an unfortunate waddle. They arrived, refused a pretty and sunny table with a view, and sat in a corner, inside, on the hottest day of the year. (The owner tells me she should perhaps have known at that point that something was up.)
They ordered their meal. Ate it. And proceeded to... um... 'see to' each other. Under the table. Enthusiastically. Complete with moving shoulder (him) and hoiked up skirt (her). I'm told there were all sorts of noises. And... um... fluids. So much so that when they were asked to leave, and they left, a scullery staff member had to be bribed with R100 to clean the upholstery they'd vacated.
Both Ms and Mr Average walked out grinning, though. And more than a little rumpled, damp and... um... stained. I'm horrified. Shocked, even. And very little shocks me. Goodness gracious. Yuk.
