Sent in by Pete Day....

Hi Sean. Here is my contribution. An out of date pic (I'm on right) and snippet from my book of when I worked as dishwasher in Garmisch, Bavaria. Cheers. Pete

A dishwasher in a German hotel is the lowest form of life, and I was left pretty much alone. I spoke only with the woman who served the tiny bar adjacent, whose job was to serve up to the waiters any drinks ordered by the clientele. She would occasionally come from behind her partition the better to talk to me. Frau Hendrix was an extremely large and blowsy woman with a choleric nature, a puffy, dough-like face and long, henna'd hair. She spoke near-perfect American-English, and had been married to an American; though this would hardly seem to be the reason why it seemed to inspire such a hatred of her fellow Germans, a trait which seemed to be exacerbated by a copious intake of Pils beer. I always tolerated her outbursts with equanimity, nodding in agreement at the right moments, as she supplied me with equal quantities of the powerful brew, meanwhile berating the patrons, who were fortunately out of ear-shot. “PIGS!” She would shout at the waiters' swing door that gave out to the
dining-room. “FAT GERMAN PIGS!” pigs seemed to be her favourite English word. “They order all this food,' she waved her mottled arms around at the left-over food, 'then leave it to be thrown away. THE GREEDY PIGS!” Two weeks into my work there, she got the sack:

She arrived this day in a drunken stupor, and proceeded to exacerbate it by consuming the potent beer with even more abandon than normal. First she verbally abused the head waiter, before swaying into the dining room to berate the customers, then returning to demolish another bottle of beer, she then proceeded to swear loudly in English at the cowering waiters, the mortified manager, and finally the head chef who, knowing no English, was for the first time struck dumb, before she was finally evicted by means of an arm lock applied by the tall, Russian doorman. I watched, consumed with laughter as she was hustled away, shouting: “PIIIGS. FAT, GERMAN PIIIGS”!

Ah memories!