Kafenion chatter

Manolis sipped his morning fix of high octane - almost chewable - coffee from the tiny cup.

He signalled the waiter for an ashtray.

"Did you hear that OTE (telephone company) guy on the phone-in this morning? Appealing for information?"

He grinned.

He had been moaning for weeks about the public phone outside his bedroom window. It was a handy stopping place for returning all-night clubbers to make a quick call home or to order a pizza. Noisy chatter and doctored boy racer bike exhausts had become an uncontrollable alarm clock - especially at weekends.

"The man from OTE said that all they knew was that at about 3.30am on Sunday, a naked man wielding a crowbar had had been seen wrenching the phone from its moorings. He then flung it far into the undergrowth."

Manolis grinned again and lit yet another cigarette. He sucked deeply.

"I slept well last night."