On Saturday, me and the girls decided to have lunch in town. There are some relatively inexpensive bistros near my office. Sarah spotted one with checkered table cloths and candles. It all looked very cosy inside and the food sounded good.

Inside, we were greeted by the person who seemed like he owned the place. A rather odd little man. We asked if we could have a table for three. To which he replied ‘Yes’ and he waltzed off into the kitchen, leaving us to find our own place.

Strange, we thought.

There were no menus anywhere to be seen.

Mr Charm returns and this is pretty much what he said: “Look, I’ll tell you what we have. Don’t ask me too many questions because I don’t have time. We have cod or rabbit. Do you want a starter?"

We’d actually come in for mussels and when we told him this he screwed up his face and repeated the menu again.

This wasn’t going terribly well but eventually we got him to agree to two plates of mussels. We asked for some chips, to complete the ‘moules frites’ ensemble but he appeared irritated and said he’d just bring us two plates of mussels.

Drinks time. I ordered a glass of red. Daisy asked for something a bit like coke. But when Sarah said she didn’t want anything to drink, he told her she had to have a drink because otherwise he wouldn’t make any money.

He then asked us where we were from. We told him we were English but we lived in Aarhus.

Then, in French, he told us we should learn Danish.

The penny then dropped - he was French. He spoke to other customers in French. He greeted people in French. And, had I got this from the start, we could have conversed in French. Although he spoke to his staff in English.

The mussels arrived. They were cold and un-drained. So they were sitting in the water they had been cooked in, rather than in a sauce. There was a blob of garlic butter dropped on the top.

I had to ask again for my wine.

We daren’t ask for the chips.

It wasn’t just us singled out for his French charm. Some new customers arrived and he, well…, waved them away.

Then he started smiling at me and winking at Daisy, which made us just think he was having a bad day.

We left to hear him shout ‘Au revoir, les Anglais!’.

I asked around at work yesterday and this guy is famous for this kind of behaviour. He is often very drunk. Often quite abusive - doing things like not letting you change your mind when you order your food - and then often very pleasant.

His name’s Olivier if you fancy having lunch there.