Mystery Kevin.
 
When I lived in Alice Springs, Australia, we would
often have a guy stay with us called Mystery Kevin.
Mystery Kevin was a small time thief of Hungarian extraction.
He was called Mystery Kevin because his English was terrible.
Whenever he talked, it was a god damn mystery what he was saying.
 
One day Mystery Kevin turned up at our door, very flustered.
It seems, a few nights earlier he'd been robbing - what he thought was - an empty house when he ran into its female owner.
After an awkward introduction, he tied her up in the kitchen with duct-tape and began ransacked her house.
The thing was, this woman turned out to be Hungarian like Mystery Kevin.
So during the course of the robbery they got talking about the homeland and kind of hit it off.
I guess Mystery Kevin was just happy to finally have someone who could understand him for once.
 
Slowly, what started as a robbery, soon became a first date and by the end of the night Mystery Kevin was giving the woman back her video recorder and gold candlesticks and what-have-you. Half an hour later they were sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen. (I think, by that stage, he'd untied her.) Finally, Mystery Kevin ended up asking her for dinner the following night and she excepted. I guess she didn't meet too many Hungarians either.
 
The next night he went off on his dinner date the happiest I'd ever seen him. He was wearing a suit; his hair was cut; he even had a present for her.
 
Unfortunately what she didn't tell him was she'd organised for the entrée to be served by 3 police officers.
 
Oh, well. I guess it just proves you should never form romantic ties with your clients.