What some folk do for publicity
I like a bargain as much as the next man, yet I cannot understand why the lure of a good deal always brings out the worst in human nature.
A scheme that enables you to lunch out on two exciting courses for a fiver and the price of a newspaper certainly qualifies as a good deal. So we duly signed up for The Times lunch promotion and, as expected, we have been packing in the customers.
Anxious diners have stopped just short of sleeping in the doorway to gain a table! We have experienced every reaction from ecstasy on arrival of the bill, to the threat of legal action when I refused to open for Sunday lunch so one woman could redeem her voucher.
One table of four came, dined and then proffered a single five-pound note for the total bill. Another elderly woman thought the newspaper clipping was to be used in place of cash.
I have been accused of piracy when making an additional charge for bread, and most people seem to think the lunch is subsidised by the Wapping press barons.
I foolishly presumed we would get an upmarket clientele from an offer in a broadsheet - I just hope the Sunday Sport doesn't run an eating-out offer.
The last time I got involved in such a promotion was in January 1992, when I took part in a two-for-the-price-of-one deal with a local newspaper. I vowed it would be the last.
We upset as many people as we served when, with only 30 covers, we could have filled four times over. The abuse that we received when the poor voucher collector couldn't get a table was an education.
Full to bursting
Fortunately, with our expansion enabling us to have a full house of 60 covers, we have fared much better with this scheme.
The average spend of about £10 has left us feeling satisfied with the results. It is amazing how much fun you can have playing with a food cost of 90p.
Perversely, our dinner trade has been chock-a-block too, and the Valentine's week gave us a till-roll equal to anything we witnessed in December and the New Year.
A cracking time
Shrove Tuesday found me cooking pancakes live on local radio with an elderly gentleman who claimed never to have cooked even an egg in his life.
The man usually drives a steamroller for a living and, as I taught him the art of making cracking crêpes, with a microphone stuck under my nose, I reflected in the strange lengths to which we have to go to get backsides on seats.
