"...who said she "now struggled when wiping her youngest son's bottom..."
What, now she's afraid there might be ice cream there?
A Sydney family's Sunday lunchtime in the pub has provoked a major rumpus after the hostelry allegedly served them with faeces-laced ice cream, Oz's Daily Telegraph reports. Stephen and Jessica Whyte, their three kids and chums Patrick and Tina Elliott were in the Coogee Bay Hotel's brasserie on 3 October to watch a rugby …
Jessica Whyte, who said she "now struggled when wiping her youngest son's bottom...".
I really don't get that sentence. Has she suffered an unrelated hand injury? Or did she get a taste for it and is struggles to overcome the temptation to just try a bit?
Oh dear, I think I've disgusted myself.
Still, a new twist on 'chocolate log' I suppose.
Ok, now I feel ill.
Is this connected to the Reg story last week about the new beer measure in pubs? (http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/10/24/new_beer_measure/).
Irish bloke goes into a pub at lunchtime and says "lager, please"
Barman says "A whole pint?"
"Nah.. two turds'll be fine.."
Mine's the one with the undigested sweetcorn in the pocket.
The last comment about Jessica Whyte suddenly being unable to wipe her sons ass and go out eating. I agree they have a case if they were actually served shit but there's no need to phone it in to that extent. It's like people claiming to be on anti-depressants and unable to work after tripping over a paving stone and sueing the Council.
DNA in the poo? So you want to test the DNA of the vegetable matter to see what veggy's theyv'e been eating? Oh sorry you mean you want to DNA test the poo to see who done it? I think you need to do some background reading before you post these suggestions. Suffice it to say that such a test would be very unlikely to produce any useful results.
Anyway even if the test was feasible who is to say the poo was produced by staff at the restaurant? It could be something they scooped up in the street.
Now a lot of people poo-poo Australian gastropubs, which is a shame as they have a lot offer the discerning gastronome. A particular favourite is the Outhouse in Brisbane, that serves a particularly piquant dunny burger. Also recommended is the sheep dip sherry cake - a must for fans of regurgitation, as this one's famed for opening the sluice gates at both ends.
When I first heard of the story (I live in the area) I was astounded at the stupidity of the family - they took the ice-cream away to have it independently tested.
Read that again: *They* took the ice-cream away.
Anyone with half an ounce of brains would have called the cops and gotten *them* to take the ice-cream away - there is now no way to "prove" that the ice-cream in the container is the same as left the building (unless, as someone pointed out, they check the poo for appropriate material to DNA, assuming it wasn't the dog's). A defence lawyer will have field day with the lack of tracking of the "evidence".
In other words, regardless of who is guilty this case is a no-show. Thanks for not bothering.
M'lud and members of the jury, I'd like to put two questions to plaintiff if I may; firstly, how did the plaintiff know that the icecream, quote "tasted like poo" unquote, and secondly, why, if the plaintiff could clearly ascertain the aroma using her olfactory sense, did she then proceed to place icecream that, quote "smelled like poo" in her mouth?
Let me see, a whole family who has close relations with a branch of pubs, goes to dine at a competitor's pub, raises a fuss over some trivial matter, gets a complimentary ice cream, then accuses pub manager of serving human waste with it. Media takes to the story like flies to, um, right.
Let me try a different scenario : guy who owns a pub asks his sister to go trash his competitor's reputation. Sister kindly obliges and packs some dog doo and the rest of her family for the mission. When the complimentary ice cream comes along (proof that the pub owner has a sense of commerce as of yet unknown in Paris), she sees her opportunity and strategically stores the dung, then accuses the competitor with holy wrath. The almighty ruckus that follows means mission accomplished. Original pub owner now smug over his teleguided victory, and tabloids all over the world have three days of subject matter. Money shower is an additional bonus which family will conscientiously spend at brother's pub (if they get it).