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Our group had grown, so rather than send a few unfortunate individuals (guys) to traipse up to the bar, we looked for a passing waitress to come and take our orders outside. The waitress who arrived was absolutely delightful, and more than a little tipsy herself. She informed us that she had been doing shots all night, and didn't realise she was still going to be working, but as long as we didn't mind, she'll take our order and join in. After all, she highly recommended the shots. So, cocktails, wines, and a solitary summer ale was ordered along with some food and, as she wouldn't take no for an answer, one guy ordered the obligatory shot.
We waited. And waited. Then saw our lovely waitress approaching. With an explanation that, as she had been doing shots, she couldn't read her own writing, and did we remember what we had ordered? True to her word, her piece of paper looked like something a chicken had scratched over, although we managed to make out the odd word for her. We eventually got there, and she came back with our drinks (most of them) and joined our gullible friend for his shot. (She seemed to cope with it better than he did, going by their facial expressions.)
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