Western Mail, Thursday 29 March 1933, page 2
A Capital G!
I was in Paris on leave early in 1918, and feeling hungry, adjourned to a restaurant. The waiter tendered a menu written entirely in French, and not wishing to appear too ignorant of the language, I pointed to a line on it; and hoped for the best. The waiter looked surprised as he left me. He returned very shortly and laid beside my plate an implement somewhat resembling a nut-cracker, and a fork with two fine prongs. If the waiter had been surprised, I was more so, and wondered what on earth I had ordered.
I was not kept in suspense very long, for back came my friend the waiter, with twelve roasted snails. Whether my face gave me away I do not know. Evidently it did, for a French officer sitting at an adjacent table, leaned across and remarked, "Excuse me Sergeant, I did not know ze English ate ze snails like ze French."
"No," I answered. "I'm just giving these a burl, to see how they go."
Manipulating the nut-cracker gadget, which exactly fitted the snail shell, and the miniature fork. I finally got six snails down, but had anyone offered me a fiver, I could not have managed the seventh. They tasted all right, but the very thought of eating them gave me a "hurdy gurdy” feeling, inwardly.
"Experience is the best teacher," After, that I stuck rigidly to "Bouef et pomme de terre" (beef and .potatoes); I could read that!
"Emm Dee," Launceston, Tas..