Get! OUT!

The new trialling waitress just turned my kitchen Azmac compilation off that my cousin made for me and replaced it with The Best Of 90s Blues.

I have officially cracked the shits.

I have a full restaurant and in a wave of rage, hailed the Boss and as an overly exaggerated gesture of annoyance, put my flexible spatula on the pass, threw a pizza tray with the accuracy of a well trained tray-spinning machine and demanded it resume the speakers.

Being able to hurl any object using any utensil to any target within 5m with 100% accuracy is a skill every kitchen worker prides him or herself on.

Because let's face it. 8pm on a busy night when every cunt wants their food in and out with the speed of a prepubescent boy's orgasm at the sight of his first naked chick, you really need these kinds of qualities.

When I'm busy, I'm not going to say "Please excuse me Mr Kitchen Hand as I have a rather stingingly hot tray grasped within my hand, would you be so kind as to clear the landing as I carefully place it in the sink?"

Fuck off.

I'm going to screech "Hot to the sink! Hot backs! Trays! TRAYS FUCKER MOVE!"

Before gracefully twirling the 11 inch piece of aluminised steel into the sink.

Watching a kitchen on a good night in full spring, is like a ballet... Or at least a really good amateur porno.

Honest to God it's a beautiful sight. The way chefs move and dance between each other. There is nothing more exciting than smashing a hard service with your best line cook beside you.

But anyway, back from my tangent - I cracked the shits.

Told the boss either Azmac goes back on the overhead, Newbie gets fired, or I quit.

Moral of the story. There are certain things you don't fuck with a chef about.

1. The location of their bin.
2. Their favourite utensil.
3. Their music.

Just remember. We are passive aggressive cunts with strong tendencies towards alcoholism and anger management with an array of hot, sharp and blunt objects at our conveniently placed disposal.

Don't, fuck with us.