(All persons, events and contradictions within this story are completely real, and any link drawn from these to those in real life have a better than average chance of standing up in court.)

Rachel stood on her own by the hot chocolate machine, her hands still slightly chilled by the cold outside, and looked around at the only other occupant of the canteen at the time, James.

James was an alright kind of person. No one ever bothered him, he never bothered anyone else .Apart from that unfortunate incident with the rubberband the first year. And just now he seemed to be asleep. She couldn't blame him, there was nothing else to do around here.

'Good afternoooon,' said a voice behind her.

Rachel looked around at, well, she didn't know his name, no one did. He just served behind the canteen. Served being used in its broadest sense, of course.

'What?' said Rachel.

'I said "Good afternoooon,"' the man said, again.

'But it's only ten-thirty, and why are you wearing that dinner suit?' asked Rachel

'What dinner suit?'

'That thing, the huge penguin outfit you've got on. Why?'demanded Rachel.

'To add a little class to le Cantene,' explained the old man. 'This dinner suit is only the first in a line of measures I am taking to attract a better class of person to the tables of le Cantene. You may have also observed the new pottery plates, the carefully cleaned coffee machine and the hygienically wrapped cutlery.'

'Where's the food?'

'In buckets by the loo door.'

'WHAT!?' screamed Rachel.

'Don't worry, I know what you're thinking but it's okay,' assured the old man calmly.

'What do you mean "it's okay"!? You've got food near where people go to... Oh, never mind.' She slowly remembered that story Phil had told her of the time he came here and the old man went bonkers in front of his eyes. No one believed him, but she was starting to have her doubts. 'Anyway,' she continued. "how much is it for the hot chocolate?'

'The prices are all on the blackboard behind you.' explained the old man, helpfully.

Rachel turned around and almost immediately turned back and said, 'They're all in a foreign language!'

'Exactly,' pointed the old man, who now seemed quite pleased with himself. 'To add to the atmosphere here at le Cantene the menus are now written in special curly, italic writing and in a seductive far off tongue.'

'Welsh?'

'Well it's the best I could come up with at short notice,' he apologised 'It's forty pence for the chocolate please.'

Rachel gave him the money, and on her way out (hastily) of the canteen she asked, 'So, what else are you going to do with le Can, er, the canteen?'

The old man began to look rather smug, and after a while he said 'Music.'

'What?', asked Rachel, half sarcastically. 'You haven't hired an accordion player have you?'

'Better,' grinned the old man, and slipped a cassette into a tape player and pressed 'play'.

Rachel shot down the line of chairs like a bullet. Take That! Take bloody That!!

It slowly dawned on her that maybe Phil hadn't been lying, maybe the old man was mad. As she ran through the doors she thought 'Oh come on, he listens to Take That, how sane could he be?'

She looked through the door one last time to see James tapping his foot along with the music.

'The world', she thought. 'Is full of some very strange people.'