James Emery White tells the following story about his visit to the Eagle and Child pub in Great Britain, the place where C. S. Lewis and his friends used to meet.

One day, as I sat at my favorite little table, and another stream of tourists entered—and left—I heard the manager muttering, "Bloody Christians." I was enough of a regular to feel comfortable asking him what he meant.

"Take a look at this," he said, holding up a menu.

"They cost me two pounds each. Two pounds! I ordered hundreds of them, and now I only have ten because they keep getting nicked."

"You mean people are stealing them?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, the bloody Christians take the menus, while the bloody students take the spoons and ashtrays."

Understanding students' obvious need for utensils, I couldn't help but ask, "Why the menus?"

"I don't know, it's what they can get their hands on, I suppose," he answered. "It got so bad I started making copies of the menu that they could take—for free—but they still take the good ones."

"I'm surprised they don't try and take what's on the walls, then," I mused, looking at the pictures, plaque, and particularly the framed handwritten letter from Lewis, Tolkien, and others commemorating the day they had drunk to the barmaid's health.

"Oh, those aren't real," he said, "just copies. They still get taken. I'd never put the real ones up."

He paused a moment, and then said, "What gets me is that all these people who come in for Lewis are supposed to be Christians, right?"

Yes, I thought to myself, they are.

The irony is bitter; the manager of The Eagle and Child pub holds Christians and, one would surmise, Christianity itself, in disdain because of the behavior of the Christians who flock to pay homage to Lewis. Many wouldn't dare drink a pint [of beer], but they will gladly steal.