A while back, I wrote on the subject of fugly people and discount stores- red ones and otherwise. Nothing has changed, except they descend to a lower plane of hell, come that affliction, SCHOOL HOLIDAY TIME.
My main object in shopping is to get out, in the least amount of time, with everything I need (except my Wa)
As usual, two of the isles were totally blocked by pods of she-mountains, the next isle had a pallet of soft drink parked right in the middle and in the others, a gaggle of the permanently baffled tried to decipher those lists of contents found on the sides of cans. Why they bother is a mystery, as the stuff is all inedible for human consumption. Ah- yes, now I see why it appeals to them!
Grabbing my packet of firelighters (try cutting kindling with one working hand) I made a dash for the checkout, trying to shut out the sound of the dead-eyed bovines lowing to their missing offspring- the ones orbiting the chupa-chups stand.
To find one organic robot passing stuff over the scanner in slow-motion and a queue of old farts out shopping for recreation. All wearing wet wool.
It was horrible!
2 comments:
Entering such theatres, must be carried out in the tradition of the French Foreign Legion. Insertion, carry out the objective and followed by successful extraction. All in under eleven minutes.
However if accompanied by extraneaous personnel,(such as the Misses or offspring, it all turns to custard.
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