Friday, 17 August 2007


Off to the supermarket today. M'zelle Suicide wants to go shopping for shoes, so I'm allowed to go alone.

See if you can spot me. I'll be the one who:-

1. Parks my BMW, Range Rover or dangerous Fiat across the disabled spots and the mother and child bays.

2. Parks said BMW, Range Rover etc so close to your car that you need your Swiss Army Knife to get back in through the roof.

3. Leafs through every single magazine on the rack, so that last copy of 'Paris/Jordan/Kate/Kerry Weekly' is so thumbed it disintegrates before you get to the checkout.

4. Walks purposely through aisle one, about a foot in front you, and then stops dead for absolutely no reason, causing a twelve trolley pile up and the inevitable collapse of the toilet roll display.

5. Meets a family of six I know slightly, in the busiest aisle and engages them in conversation for an hour.

6. Helps meself to a pack of grapes, a large bag of Doritos and a 2 litre bottle of cola and then consumes them on the way 'round.

7. Stops at the thing you most want/need to look at and stands there browsing for twenty minutes, oblivious of your polite coughs and 'humphing' noises.

8. Decides he wants to test the aroma of the 'Spring Fleur' bleach, struggles with the child proof cap and ends up 'accidentally' spilling it all over your kids.

9. Decides to stop at the narrow bit of the aisle where they are re-stacking the shelves causing a two mile trolley tailback.

10. Walks off with your trolley when you have your back turned and abandons it in the disabled toilet (where I have stopped for a comfort break) leaving you no chance of ever finding it.

11. Sets up a little stall and tries to get you to change your Gas/Electricity/Telephone supplier with the offer of a free baseball cap.

12. Puts my 400+ items through the 5 items or less.

13. 'Accidently' breaks a bottle of red wine and a carton of natural greek yoghurt onto the conveyor belt

14. Finally gets served at the 5 items checkout, suddenly remember 30 items I had meant to get and order the hapless young girl serving to "sort it out for me before I call the manager"...Ignoring the mounting queue behind me

15. Flirts with checkout girl and tries to get her phone number... Still ignoring the mounting queue behind me.

16. Fails to get the checkout girl's phone number and then accuses her of being rude... Is that the sound of growling behind me?

17. On being presented with final total, forgets my pin number asks the checkout girl of she minds waiting whilst I pop outside to the car to get some cash... A gunshot behind me as a young bachelor, with a carefully counted four items, gives up the ghost.

18. Steadfastly refuses to apologise to the eighteen people queing behind me.

19. Leaves my trolley in such a way that it both stops you from putting your trolley back AND blocks the exit to the carpark.

20. Puts a dent in your car by opening my door without due care and attention.

21. Writes off your car completely, without damaging my BMW, Range Rover or dangerous Fiat as I engage first gear instead of reverse, then drives off without leaving my insurance details (I don't have any).

I'll be at every supermarket in the UK today, be sure to say 'Hello' if you see me.


Gwen said...

Oh yes - I know you, you're the one I've got a contract our for.

Ishouldbeworking said...

Appalling Shopping Trolley Morality, Gluttonous Personal Space Usage, Generalised Predatory Letchery, All-Round Sensory Greed, and I bet you wear an England football shirt with 'Rooney' on the back while you do it.

Plus, I bet you get two-thirds of the way round, decide against those trifle sponges in your trolley because they're for poofs, and drop them on the floor near the pet food where they can be trodden underfoot and the detritus swept up by an elderly Portugese cleaner on six quid an hour.

Valentine Suicide said...

Sorry, I always do that when someone mentions his Royal ..erm..Rooneyness.

G, I'll be on the look out for one of those red laser-sight dots on me chest then, shall I? Or will it be tartan?

I did actually see the elderly Portugese cleaner on six quid an hour, but instead of making her clean up me trifles, I blamed her for the spillage and docked her wages. Then pushed her in the dessert freezer.

I decided on Waitrose today and spent a lovely time wandering around with me earbuds piping in Tindersticks, Richard Hawley, Scott Walker, Grandaddy and Brian Ferry. Waitrose is a little further out than some, but I like to watch the birds fall out of the sky, as I thunder past in a cloud of Swedish death...

Ishouldbeworking said...

I had a disappointingly glamour-free visit to Waitrose this week, so can only assume they all migrated to the Midlands, to admire your puppyskin steering-wheel cover.

liv said...

You're not planning on doing a tour of stateside grocery stores any time soon, are you? It would be great. We could do a study to prove my theory that any number of faux pas will be forgiven if you speak with a British accent.

Clair said...

Aaand....fills the trolley with frozen ready meals, loaves of white bread, microwave burgers, cakes and lard, but decides you really need Diet Coke, as you shop, surrounded by your family, who all resemble walruses, especially your 14-year-old, 16-stone daughter Oshun-Bleu, resplendent in a micro mini and cropped top bearing the word "SEXY", showing her corned-beef legs and mega-chocolate muffin-top.

Five-Centres said...

I was in Morrison's at lunchtime. I thought I saw you, but as it turns out you were in Waitrose, where I should have been.

Still, I got ignored by the bizarre-looking checkout boy, while being crowded out by the women behind me who sandwiched me between the person in front and them, because they couldn't wait two seconds for everyone to move through naturally.

I won't go on.

Valentine Suicide said...

Liv, my sister is currently in the US and is a chip off the old block. I'll call her later and get her to run over a few people. See if the British accent can get her off the hook. (stay away from Chicago for the next few days though).

Clair, only 'White-Lightnin' in my trolley this week. I need to maintain a certain level of psychosis ..

Actually I was very well behaved this week. If you act like a pleb in Waitrose, you could find yourself being ridden in the next hunt.

Gwen said...

I've just commented on another blog and I may as well her as well to plagarise myself so to speak. Do you find that there are a lot of emo boys serving these days? I seem to see a lot of them. I'm sure that Waitrose doesn't have emo boys serving mind you. I'm sure they don't let them in the door in that establishment.

Valentine Suicide said...

I'm not sure about Emo boys (I'm quite old and don't know what they look like), but they're always slightly unusual. That 21st century Limahl hairstyle seems to be mandatory.

Gwen said...

I believe that black is also mandatory for the emo boy. Black floppy hair, black eyeliner, black t-shirt, trousers, boots and nothing deviating from the above. They also have to wear these daft big round (black again) earring things and of course they just have to look incredibly miserable. Like I say, I don't think that Waitrose would let any in their doors. Would you let one in your door should he turn up of a dark night?

Valentine Suicide said...

Oh my god! I think I AM an Emu !

Gwen said...

Well, you've got the height for it.

Rob said...

Some people really need a punch up the bracket...