Assault and pepper

Here in RrrrrrAdelaide! there is a well-known restaurant that specializes in serving big thick steaks to big thick men.  The kitchen has a window that abuts the footpath so that passers-by can peer in and marvel at the juicy cuts.  Cuts, I say, cuts.  There is something compelling about it that causes everyone to stop and look, even people like me who don't eat much in the way of enormous slabs of meat anymore.

I invented a fun pastime last week which involves strolling up behind the people ogling the thick steaks and interjecting in their conversation.  The game is simple: every time somebody makes any reference to the meat, you must say, "No, that's one of the chefs."

Here's how it unfolded:

Stranger 1

Oh my god, look at the size of those steaks.

PTR

No, that's one of the chefs.

Stranger 1

Huh?

Stranger 2

Is it all just steak?

Stranger 1

I think there are some lamb chops up the back there.

PTR

No, that's one of the chefs.

Stranger 1

Huh??

Stranger 2

Look they also have chicken.

PTR

No, that's one of the chefs.

Stranger 2

Huh???

Stranger 1

I don't even think I could finish something that big.

PTR

No, that's one of OW!