Restaurants...A feast of material for the blogger!

Come dine with me...but only if you've booked!

Being a bunch of sophisticated social masticators, the wiggy wigsters have grown accustomed to the ways of the restaurant trade. For those aiming for our high level of superiority (Ed: True - you really should be calling us mother superior) there’s a cauldron of information bubbling away in our proverbial kitchen waiting to be slopped out and dished up. It’s only a small kitchen, but does boast two Phil Mitchell stars!

So, as part of our social kindness responsibilities pledge, we give you a guide to restaurant ways. No doubt we’ll get honoured by the Queen for this service, probably an MBE or an OBE, but the real reward is in knowing that you know, what we know, what they know, but that they don’t know what we know.

All restaurants have an unofficial “suitable diner” code, used to determine if you are good enough to dine in their company.

If you’re unlucky enough to find yourself failing the restaurants “suitable diner” test, then on arrival you’ll not be greeted. You may even find the restaurant locked, with the staff and other diners ordered to hide behind chairs. We once heard of a case in which an entire tube line was shut just to avoid a certain “undesirable” from entering one of London’s premier restaurants. If you find yourself in this situation, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for you.

However, if you’re reasonably dressed and sober then this should be sufficient to get you in to most restaurants. If accepted then the front of house will be the first person to greet you. We say greet in the loosest sense of the word, for they are in reality like Cerberus, guarding the restaurant and ready to offer the first stage of social embarrassment. Before you can even say “Good evening” they immediately hit you with the party size question… “Table for four?”.

Now, this may seem like a simple question to answer, but the pressure they exert with that three word sentence can send even the most experienced mathematician in to a kindergarten counter, fumbling around with their fingers as they try to count the party size. Failure to confirm is quickly frowned upon and you’ll soon find yourself unable to obtain the table you desire.

So, if you’re still surviving and lucky enough, you’ll be allowed to see the tables. Chances are you’ll relax as soon as you see the majority of them are empty. DON’T – this is their next trap, for sooner than you can say “fry me a fritter for some Friday fun”, the front of house will hit you with “Have you booked?”

Failure to say yes, will result in an over complicated sigh and the next phase of the game begins.

In front of you lie 90% of unallocated tables, a beautiful table catches your attention, maybe the restaurant change the lighting subtly to make it appear more favourable than the rest. The number of chairs matches the number of bottoms, a true dining experience seems to be on the cards…but you are still waiting as the front of house is still frantically typing and referencing table plans, restaurant blue prints, fire exit procedures, typing more, tutting and muttering about the inconvenience of not booking.

The truth is that you could have any one of these unallocated tables, all of them are free, but to simply waltz with you to the table would be like saying “there’s no need to book”… this whole game is to make you book next time! It makes then look busy.

So after several more minutes of wasted with long hand division practise, a game of Cludo and ceremonial trumpet blowing, the front of house beckons you to walk this way. For a moment you think of the comical gag, but remember the “suitable diner” code and comply as you follow the front of house, who by now appears to be leading you to your dream table. Just as you get within touching distance you’ll be force to make a sudden turn, and be shown a table squashed in between the wall and several pillars, probably with a low ceiling and with a number of noisy kids running around who appear to be constantly shouting “I don’t like peas”. Again, this is your punishment for not booking, and as you sit down you notice you are in fact sitting in the cloak room, but still have enough sight of that glorious table as it glistens and teases you with it's emptiness in the distance.

“You could have been mine if you’d only booked” you hear it say as you settle down in your seat.

The table stays empty for the entire evening and you eventually lose sight of it after another table load of coats cover your view just before dessert is served.

The only exception to this rule is if you're blessed with amazing looks, in which case you'll be placed in the window like some sort of freak restaurant manikin consortium, advertising how only beautiful people eat in the restaurant.

Of course there are more games that restaurants play:

Fast music is played to make you eat quicker, but then slows down in between your meals to make your wait seem shorter.

The special board sounds exciting but is really leftovers.

Only the initiated know what the soup of the day is and they are sworn to secrecy by an ancient code.

So how do you survive all of this, well you use the wiggy wigster tips (WWT):

WWT1: It’s recommended you perform a headcount of your party before entering the restaurant. If you’re feeling confident, then make one of your guests wait outside the restaurant and when hit with the party size question, you can immediately correct there assumption and score a power point to the diner. If you're feeling super confident, then go in one by one - the initial one grabs the table and the subsequent guess can ignore the front of house.

WWT2: After you’ve counted your party size as part of WWT1, take out your mobile phone and call the restaurant from outside. Book a table and say you’ll be there soon. Ask for the best table, it should take about 2 seconds for them to allocate you a table and say you’ll be there as soon as you can. Hang up, count to 10, 12 or 23 and then walk through the door and in to the restaurant, shouting out before the door is even fully open. “Hello, I’ve booked a table for 4 at 8pm”. If you’re lucky then you may get a table just outside the cloak room.

So help your fellow diners and share your tip with the community.