Tag Archives: tea ceremony

With a name like that, maybe he should have ordered coffee

‘Twas but a few days ago that I remarked upon the case of the unsatisfactory fellow who called the police in the course of his tantrum over a teabag.

I was clearly not alone in remarking; here it is in Russia Today, since taken up by some freedom-loving Americans.

The damnable cheek of the Russians extends to calling this incident ‘the most British story ever’, while our American cousins, trying to be supportive, explain that

This guy is the reason people use the term “douchebag” in a derogatory manner.

All we need now is for this guy to be noticed by the French and the Chinese and we’ve got the whole damn Security Council.

I have never used Twitter because it seems to be for Twits. However, since the tea justice warrior is clearly one himself, any reader fluent in Twit and having access to Twitter might want to Tweet him with an appreciation of his service to his country’s international reputation: @RobLattarulo.


Proper tea is theft

A less than satisfactory fellow with a sinister-sounding foreign name, what looks like the early stages of a really serious hairstyle problem, and a clearly highly developed sense of entitlement has been stirring it in a tea-shop (more here, if you can bear the sloth, or even sloth the bear).

For those who are linkophobic, there was a minor cock-up about teabags. It was instantly resolved by the proprietor, but the self-righteous crybully then filed a defamatory report on TripAdvisor using the café’s own Wi-Fi service, and, when challenged about this wholly unjust behaviour and asked to leave, called the police – who told him his fortune.

What interests me about this fine example of something or other (apart from the brat’s superbly definitive “purposely…“, and the refreshingly robust rebuttal from his clearly undemoralised victim) is the picture.

The peculiarly disagreeable likeness has clearly been Photoshopped over a picture of the irrepressibly cheerful Ms. Sevjan Melissa’s highly-regarded, if perhaps occasionally stressed, café,  Birdie Num Nums in New Cross (of course now it’s famous there’ll be a queue all down the street, so get in quick).

Exactly the same creepy picture has later been Photoshopped over a stock-shot of a garden, just below the bit where the babyish waster of police time admits quite shamelessly to being

…a recruitment manager for a healthcare regulator

What I want to know is: out of what original photo was this less than edifying collection of pixels excised? What did it depict? In front of what background did Roberto once smirk?

Answers on a postcard, please…