Tuna Vadge

I like Bournemouth. Bournemouth is quite a cosmopolitan place and seemingly moreso now that a lot of the staff in various pubs and whatnot seem to be from Eastern Europe. I guess they are part of the half a million who have allegedly turned up in the UK from that neck of the woods, a slight improvement on the 15,000 the government had estimated.

Now, I can think of worse things than being waited on in waterholes by mostly blonde, always very polite and normally fairly sexy-looking Slavs, however the girl in the pub on Friday left me speechless. She wandered over to our table with a food order and kept saying "Vadge. Vadge."

At first I thought she was making reference to some 'veggie' meal. It took the best endeavours of my less smutty side, a couple of leaps of faith and my keen eyesight to realise she was actually proffering the 'Tuna Melt Baguette' I had ordered - 'Vadge' obviously being a suitable pronunciation for baguette.

"Tuna?" I said. "Vadge!" she said.

I greeted her warmly and tucked into my lunch, addding in my best 'Allo 'Allo! style, "Compliments to the Cock!"