Publican Irish Tom was pensive.
He was hoping we would decide to eat elsewhere as "they are more trouble than they are worth".
Bryan was there, quiet Phil had put in one of his occasional appearances.
Moree was 'down the farm' still trying to come to terms with being knocked back for the $5,000 drought relief package he had fraudulently applied for.
The Bishop strolled in looking dishevelled and longing to be back in 1970 when all football was played on Saturdays, there were no tape recorders in police interviews and pubs were pubs where you stood at the bar and drank, not laying about on a sofa.
Primrose the ex bank manager arrived looking concerned as usual.
He spent so many years perfecting that "ooh i don't know about this" look on his face when customers asked for a loan it is permanently stuck on.
Irish Tom announced that if we entertaining any notions of eating here we could forget it.
Bryan suggests he has heard good reports about a Vietnamese cafeteria off the Sandy Bay Road. I could eat the crutch out of a rag doll and suggest that will do.
Bryan orders a traveller.
We head off.
Bryan's dog comes along with us.
The dog has his head out the sunroof as we pass the old Syntax.
He is a smart dog and is always on the lookout for danger so he can alert Bryan.
He is also good for spotting car park spaces and barks loudly at Bryan his head pointing to the Coles car park indicating that is the only place to park.
We all alight and head to the restaurant while Bryan tells the dog that he has been looking at a place called Wynyard on the Internet and "we might move there'.
Bryan would bring the dog in but the Health laws won't allow it and as Primrose points out it might not be a good idea to take a dog into an Asian restaurant.
Then the trouble starts.
There is a pretty little thing taking orders but her command of English is not the best.
She seems to think we are after take aways.
Primrose mutters something about 'illegal immigrants'.
I hold up 5 fingers and point toward the tables.
The penny drops.
The food arrives quickly which is good but before I know it I am being showered with rice.
The others are shaking so violently from alcohol withdrawal they could light up the National Electricity Grid.
They are missing their mouth's altogether on occasions.
Primrose observes that 'there seems to be a lot of Asians in here".
The Bishop points out that is not surprising.
Quiet Phil remarks that 'Hop Sing' has done a good job.
I have finished and head outside to shake off all the rice.
I pay the young lass and she appears to ask me a question.
I have no idea what she says so i just say "Yes, Yes put your money on the Saints - they will win tonight.
We head back and Bryan drops us off at The Young Pretender while he and the dog adjourn to the dog beach.
Bryan has purchased some Apr es Ski boots from Kathmandu for the dog beach.
My shoes are inappropriate for the dog beach.
Moree is perched up at the bar.
He has hit his head on the steering wheel again driving home drunk from the farm and is looking the worse for wear but is smiling.
He has malt whiskey in front of him.
The Bishop reminds every one of the time Moree cut his head by falling over drunk in the church taking a short cut to his place from The Trumpeters Arms.
Moree claims there are Chinese spys dropping information into Labor Party electorate offices to be collated and sent back to Peking.
The ALP is in cahoots with the Chinese Government he says.
He asks me can I get him some Viagra.
I tell him no.
I tell him I would worry he would have a heart attack anyway.
He says he just wants it so he doesn't piss on his boots.
Someone says they have heard that Wazza is back in town.
Everyone looks concerned.
Irish Tom pours himself a Guinness and puts his head in his hands.
"Jeez I hope not!" he says.