“You don’t sell Sambuca? What kind of bar is this?”

“Which one’s which?”  *After being handed a vodka lemonade and a JD and coke*

“Can I have this cocktail? Make it strong, just for me.”

“Got anything on draught?” *After staring at draughtless bar for five minutes*

“So what else do you do?”

“So what do you study at uni?”

“I was a bartender once.”

“Can you make me this drink I had in Ecuador a few years ago? Can’t remember what was in it.”

“That’s not how the bar over the road makes them. Why not?”

“It’s cool. I know the owner.”

“It’s cool, I know the bartenders.”

“It’s cool. I know the barback.”

“It’s cool, the bouncer fancies me.”

“I pay your wages.”

“I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like this bar.”

“Here’s my number.”

“Can I have a free drink?”

“So…these are my genitals.”

“Bye.”

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