We’re sitting at the bar and Clemens Dietrich is standing behind it in his natural habitat or at least that’s what it feels like. There’s no need of a table to talk at here because we are all familiar with this situation from the TV: You can have a good conversation with the bartender at the bar.
Carefully he lays a slice of bacon on the iced glass, looks up and grins devilishly from behind his beard: “How did I end up here? My pooch did a pooh outside the front door.”