The pub was beating to the tunes of Groove Armada. Heaving with commuters, the place had that perfect post-work buzz. With a pint of Staropramen in one hand and a menu in the other, I scanned the pizza list with enthusiasm. I was probably drooling. My eyes settled on the crispy duck. I have a weakness for duck. If it is on the menu I will go for it. Catch me at the right moment and I would sell my birthright for some crispy duck. Crispy duck or a million quid? I'd take the duck any time. I went to the bar and placed my order.
"I'll have a 12" crispy duck pizza please, and a pint of Star."
"We have a two-for-one deal on today ," he said.
"I couldn't eat two," I replied.
"But you could get two 6" pizzas for the price of one," he pleaded.
Someone walked by carrying a couple of minuscule pizzas. There were so damn tiny. Would that really be the same amount of pizza? I used to be quite good at maths. With two maths A-levels, a computer science degree, a major in neural computing and six years busting my brain writing financial software, I would like to think I still am. I'm beginning to suspect it was all a dream and that I am actually a farmhand. I froze for a few seconds, racking my brain for the formula to calculate the area of a circle. All I could find were random bits of physics equations, ghosts of calculus and crispy ducks. πr2, that was it. I struggled with the arithmetic. In my defence the baby had kept us up most of the night before, I had played football over lunch, drunk a pint on an empty stomach and was partially distracted by a group at the bar, the bizarrest group I have ever seen. Eight gay men and one woman. Now what was that all about?
"I'll go with the two 6" pizzas."
"They don't both have to be crispy duck," he explained, "you can mix and match." He was wrong, they did both have to be crispy duck, and on second thoughts, with a million quid I could buy 142857 crispy duck pizzas, and on a Tuesday, get another 142857 free.