The Icelandic poet Bragi Ólafsson does not enjoy anchovies, and wants everyone to know it. Translation by Bernard Scudder. For the text of the complete prose poem, click here. — Alice, the Anchovy Schoolmarm
I enter a restaurant and say: I don't like anchovies, waiter. I am absolutely unable to order anchovies. We don't have any anchovies, says the waiter. And he continues: I recognise you, sir. . . .
