SOME YOU WIN AND SOME ...

"'Hello, I am Sven, and I am going to be your Norse for the night. I hope you like our Swedish food and hospitality. Enjoy.' And with that, he flipped his long blond hair over his shoulder and minced back to the kitchen.

"Bloody hell", drooled Dave, "put him in a pinny and take him home!" It is not often that Dave and I go for a meal because it usually ends up in trouble. Dave may be gay, but he'd fit in down the rugby club like odd-shaped balls fit in a rugby scrum. Somehow tact is not his strong point. Come to think of it, I would not like to go near his strong points.

"But you're not here to listen to my problems.

"When Sven returned, Dave ordered a smorgasbord salad 'with a bit on the side'.

"Sven did not look amused. 'I've seen much fresher side-salads than you', replied Sven tartly.

"Now, I know he should not have done it, but I did not think that putting a hand on Sven's thigh deserved such a full-blooded right hook. Dave disappeared skyward and landed with his head in the lap of the buxom matron sitting alone behind him.

"Whilst I sat there gob-smacked (well, actually it was Dave's gob that got smacked), the woman started to stroke Dave's hair and coo gently at him. This might have been fine if he could breathe. Maybe she likes blue men, I thought. So, I got up to help my pal.

"'He can't breathe', I said.

"'All the better', she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"'No. I mean, he's turning blue. You need to bring him round.'

"'Oh, what a shame,' she said, 'still this should do it', and with that she leaned down, grabbed a full hand of manhood and squeezed. Well, that certainly did it. Dave screamed and jumped up, catching his head on the side of the table. The table went flying, and Dave passed out again into the arms of his admirer.

"It might not have been so bad if the table had not hit the ornamental fish tank. Once this had spread glass, smelly water and flapping fish all over the floor, we had real mayhem. Dave would have been in his element if he had not been buried a foot deep in her cleavage.

"The dewy-eyed couple tried to get up and go. He slipped, fell on her, and she went over into the mess. It's amazing what turns some people on - well, at least I assume that's why she started trying to take her dress off.

"Sven, who was now the holder of the title, "The Most Puce Blond in Town", was having none of this, so he dashed over to cover her embarrassment. The boyfriend obviously misunderstood why a blond, good-looking and muscular male was heading for his semi-naked female. As Sven got close, the boyfriend picked up one of the larger fish, tugged at Sven's waist belt and pushed the fish down the front of his trousers.

"'Right up yours', he shouted as Sven tried to come to terms with both the fish and the near-naked woman. It is not often that you see such a look of horror on someone's face.

"Dave was now regaining consciousness. Realising that he was in two dangerous situations, he seemed to think bravado was the best option. He grabbed the bowl of soup from the table and poured it down the ample cleavage that had held him. With her now distracted, he could vent his anger on the struggling Sven. Picking up a knife, he waddled over to where Sven was trying to extract himself from the fishy situation. Maybe Sven should not have bent over at that moment because Dave neatly sliced the back seam of his tight trousers. This, in turn, gave vent to the problems at Sven's front.

"Now, Sven did not know why he had suddenly been liberated and probably did not care. Care was not something he had shown when he got dressed because he had obviously forgotten to put any underwear on. Exposed like this, he was now a suitable target for two angry males.

"This was when I made the mistake of laughing. I did not know that women with hot soup down their front could be so accurate with a flying kick, and I didn't think a stiletto heel could do that much damage. Still, you learn fast in situations like these. The sight of a five-foot-five, fifteen-stone woman with a scarlet chest hurtling towards you does dampen your humour. I shall remember those scarlet knickers forever.

"Whilst I was having my troubles, Sven was having his. With the fish out of his trousers, he could now concentrate on the matter at hand. However, the placement of his hands was causing a mixed message to be sent. He intended to cover the erstwhile cooing girls' rounded charms. The message received by the boyfriend was ... well, let's just say different. Dave had also reacted badly to what he thought was betrayal of gay solidarity. As the boyfriend grabbed Sven by the collar, Dave pushed the boyfriend.

"I'm sure that the crepe flambé would have come out of that end eventually, but not Sven's and not before having been eaten. It is not often that you see a six-foot blond male with a hot frying pan stuck to his rear end trying to cool himself in the remains of a fish tank.

"It was at this point that the police and ambulance crew arrived. The first paramedic laughed, but only as long as it took a flying blur of red to trample his pride too.

"Well, nurse, that's my story. Now, could you please stop laughing and remove this stiletto from my ear?"

William Safire's Rules for Writers