As it was Saturday night we were afraid there might be plate-smashing hi-jinks, and we weren't wrong. It started gently, with the waiter who looked like Saddam Hussein balancing a bottle of wine on his head accompanied by Zorba the Greek. (The live music was rather good; imagine if you will real Greek musicians, on real Greek instruments, playing the James Bond theme.)
At ten the belly-dancer came on, but my moussaka arrived at that point so I didn't pay her much attention. From what I saw of her belly, though, it was very nice. Following the time-honoured tradition of humiliating the birthday boy we pointed him out as such and he was dragged from his meal to dance with her. We await the full-colour splash on the front of next week's Catford and Lewisham News Shopper.
This was followed by the plate-smashing, which was fairly restrained (possibly they were on a budget). Then Saddam had his next turn: with the help of a selection of attractive female diners, he ended up with five glasses of beer and a small candle on his bonce and danced out to great applause, looking rather like Thomson and Thompson when they go undercover in Destination Moon.