The male predator is tall with longish hair and commands the conversation with self-assured, savvy confidence. His hand gestures are grandiose and flamboyant and his partner nods in agreement and adulation between nibbles. My stomach rumbles and my eye twitches. I curse our luck since I’m sure we ordered before them.

Finally our bread arrives and I smother it in butter and tzatziki sauce. This is the best homemade Turkish bread in London and I’ve been waiting for it all week. I’m not sure my girlfriend shares my excitement, but since I’m treating her to a Chicken Kebab she can allow me this simple pleasure.

Danger approaches

A loud smash distracts me from shoving a chunky, dripping piece of bread into my mouth. A bulky, round-faced drunk has forcefully entered the restaurant. He staggers past the couple at the entrance and approaches our table with a mounting, uncontrollable momentum. I put down my bread and prepare to somehow stop him smashing into our table. Fortunately, he finds a table opposite us and crashes down onto a chair. Breathing heavily he unzips his black jacket, unleashing an impressive beer gut, and starts to look around for potential victims.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle up. I sense danger and notice that the two other couples (the only other diners in the restaurant) are keeping up the guise of enjoying their meal but are preparing for the possibility that the drunk may choose to attack. The pressure is now on each and every male diner in the restaurant to protect their woman.

I need a hero
I'm holding out for at hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

Fresh bread, yes! Fresh from using my new Spring Radiance shower gel, yes! Fresh from the fight? Well, not really. I return to my food and pray that he doesn’t notice me.

The drunk gets up and stumbles into the kitchen. The chef — currently talking to a waitress — pursues him and loud crashes and thumps echo throughout the restaurant. I wait for just the right time to get up and lend my fists of fury to the situation. Yes, the time is now! I poke my head around the corner and the trouble maker is lying on the floor, subdued by the chef. He's hauled out of the restaurant and my girlfriend and I try to relax and enjoy the Kebabs which have just arrived.

Trouble in dodge city!

Five minutes later the restaurant door swings open again and the drunk, now sobered by rage and revenge, skips towards the kitchen, apologising to everyone for disturbing their meal. I can see the entrance to the kitchen in the reflection in the window and I see his fist wind back like a catapult and then launch in the direction of where the chef must be. There is trouble in dodge city!

I need a hero
I’m holding out for a hero 'till the morning light
He’s gotta be sure
And it’s gotta be soon
And he’s gotta be larger than life

The man-predator bolts off his chair and runs towards the kitchen. En route to the source of the trouble he says to me and another bloke sitting nearby, 'Come on lads, we gotta sort this out!'

Crap! There are lots of knives in kitchens aren’t there? And cheese-graters which I’m sure could be used as a non-lethal, but rather messy weapon. Screams and yelps mingle with the smell of donner kebab wafting out of the kitchen.

I stand and slowly edge towards the source of conflict. Again, I poke my head around the corner, one foot gripped on the floor ready to launch myself out of the way should a large meat cleaver come hurtling in my direction. There is a lot of struggling but the man-predator-hero is holding the drunk's arms behind his back. The drunk is putting up an impressive fight and looks like he could break free any second.

'Don’t go in Mark!' a voice of an angel says. It’s my girlfriend and she’s just given me the green light to retreat like a cowardly dog. 'OK honey, I think they’ve got it all under control,' I say just as the drunk rams the hero against the wall.

The hero and the chef eventually manage to throw the guy out of the restaurant and they call the cops. The cops arrive and take everyone’s statement. Well, everyone who was involved in the incident. We sit at the back like two pieces of wall decoration and the cops don’t even look in my direction. The hero gives an eye witness account whilst his girlfriend looks up at him with starry, 'I’m going let you shag me that way you’ve always wanted to' eyes.

Amazingly, the drunk walks past the restaurant while the cops are still there.

'That’s the guy!' says the hero. The cops drag him into the restaurant and cuff him. Wow, the law does actually work sometimes, I think to myself. The cops ask the hero, 'Is this the man?' and the hero says, 'Yes, now take him away boys!' (He didn’t really say the last bit but I’m sure he wanted to).

The drunk is whisked away as the music in the restaurant very strangely changes from traditional Turkish to hard-core techno. I start to feel very unsettled so I settle the bill and exit the restaurant as inconspicuously as possible. I have to walk past the hero but I don’t look at him.

'My hero!' My girlfriend chuckles, and puts her arm around me as we walk up the road.