busker

Just when I've dropped enough $1 notes into the tip jar for the staff to be polite, off I jet to house-train a new Brit breed of uncouch baristae.

"You what? Speak up. Hurry along there, got others in line, you know ...

'ere Doris, this berk wants a 'single tall lartay with hazlenut', can you believe?

"Yerss, chief, coming right up."

Groan.