The waiters know me.

I go into the Carlton; the head-waiter whispers; a waiter brings a basket of bread; I eat it all.

I go into Boisin's, or Henry's; the head-waiter whispers; it is a basket of bread; while I eat a few eggs, a chicken, a salad, a tart or two, some fruit, cheese, the bread is all gone.

I am the tomb of all the bread in the world.

So I get fat.