Thursday, 13 September 2012 at 13:23

Standard

Two yanks adorned in baseball caps and fanny packs.

Customer: Hi there, Miss. We have seen a poster on the tube advertising Carousel.
Me: Yes. It’s on at the Barbican Theatre, which is an independent venue, you’ll need to buy tickets directly from them.

*From this point onwards, I have mentally evacuated the conversation*

C: Where is that?
Me: East London. Who’s next please?
C: Oh. We can’t do that then. We’re staying in West London.
Me: So get on a tube. Next please!
C: But where would we go?
Me: The area is called Barbican. Who is next please?
C: You misunderstand me, where do we need to go?
Me: Barbican. The area is also called Barbican, the tube stop is Barbican. Next please!
C: No, Miss, you’re confused, I am not asking you what the theatre is called, I am asking you where we need to go to find the theatre?
Me: Despite the fact that you are quacking shit like an inbred duck, I actually managed to understand you perfectly the first time, the area AND the theatre are both called Barbican!
C: Barbeque?
Me: MOTHER FUCKING WHO IS NEXT PLEASE?!

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