My appearance on their radar caused the grandmother to bring her hitherto well hidden Tourettes syndrome to the fore. In a movement that saw her face, neck and jowls turn and face me a good ten seconds before the rest of her wobbling mass arrived, "Fuck off yous" was the delightful refrain that belched from her engorged and pustulant lips. Perplexed I looked around to see if some other deluded shopper had tried to squeeze past, nope only me, perhaps she was seeing double or hadn't mastered the art of plurals...
I genuinely suppressed the urge to grab her by her gargantuine flappy necks and slam her head into her daughter and grand-daughters by now jabbering mouths. Thankfully, I thought of the long hours sitting in a police cell, the indignation of the tabloids and the inevitable jail sentence and recriminations from their extended family. Sighing I suggested they take their purchases to the Hippo aisle where their own kind wouldn't be subject to astonished looks or tuts of disapproval from the disillusioned or depressed. I was completely taken aback to hear a tweed clad elderly lady announce "Good for him!"
The whole encounter has left me weighed down with an unvented spleen, I feel the need to howl at the world and pound my fists against acres of soft malleable flesh to encourage through vigorous pummelling the notion that two packets of Jaffa cakes between meals is not a substitute for child care. I am so reduced to a state of nervous sensitivity that the sight of these disagreeable people has deeply impressed upon my mind. No doubt it will take several days to remove the imprint of their flesh, feeding and foulness from my mind. I fear that my life has been sheltered. This torment is too much for one man to endure. I have resolved to avoid the supermarket for eternity, unless I'm armed.
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15 comments:
Tesco or Morrisons?
Both are teeming with fat bastards. Morrisons even have a 'mart cart' for those who are to chubtastic to walk...
The Morrisons in Dumfries is much nicer since it was done up. (A wee secret, I helped convert it from Safeway to the dreaded M)
Imagine them naked.
No, hang on, that's for interviews.
You've never visited ASDA if you think that's bad.
I stick to Wiatrose now; better class of client and workforce, being part of the J.L. partnership so I don't mind spending a bit extra.
Rab, If I remember correctly when Safeway became Morrinazis the staff took on air of perpetual gloom and the place stank of pies. The poor lass who worked the PA sounded as if she was being jollied up to entice customers to buy baked products at the end of a gun.
These three hippos honestly lookd as if they had waddled off from a special circus for the maladjusted and maligned. I dare say their male counterparts were waiting at home jaws akimbo.
Perchance you have had a sheltered life Mark, if that be the case may I take this opportunity to advise you against ever taking public transport as the I feel the trauma of an experience such as that may just be too overwhelming for you
Derek, I once took the 246 bus from Dumfries to Kilmarnock. It took superhuman resilience not to yank the pony tail from the escaped prisoner who sat in front of me berating his mother/partner/enabler for the duration of the journey. Thankfully fate intervened and he disembarked at Kelloholm.
Public transport bad enough, but going to Kilmarnock of all places, you really need to be careful of your choice of destination, you could have found yourself sitting next to Marvin, Dayna and bullet the dug from " The Scheme " !!
If it helps, it was a misguided attempt to get to PureDead International. I've since opted to pay over the odds for the car park to avoid such yahoos.
Try LIDL, if you dare.
Except their German beer is good
As an aficionado of the holy grail of cheap German beer, I will forever remain faithful to Fink Brau at 12 of your Euro cents per can circa 2002 courtesy of Lidl.
Euro Lidl's are better than ours as they often incorporate a local baker, butcher or fruit and veg shop to trade on their premises.
You are giving the impression of a young lady from a Jane Austen novel - no strike that - a Georgette Heyer novel who has come across one of the people from below doors and has a fit of the vapors.
You should get on buses more and then you would learn not to be so polite to them.
A 'get out the road you fat cunt' is entirely acceptable as long as you feel you have the physical prowess to beat them off should it come to it, & it will make you feel better.
Dearest Observer, I am afraid that I have reached the October of my sensations and can no longer be called upon to stand idly by and witness the slack jawed and indolent infest my environs. This blight on humanity affects my very emotions at a time when enthusiasms and beliefs of innocence have all but drained away leaving only the barren memories of hardships, tyrannies and slights suffered at the behest of the unthinking and malodorous.
You have most certainly not reached the October of your sensations: by all accounts you are around my age & are therefore a spry young thing, or thereabouts as 40+ is the new 12 or something like that.
Which is complete bollox of course the older you get the worse it gets but you do get to tell people to fuck off if you want. You should do so at will if they deserve it. And if you feel aggrieved then tell them they are a cunty-baws too.
And you are so much better at it when you are older I look forward to being 80 because people won't expect it.
Isn't heart warming to see 3 generations all out together in the day to day business of shopping and getting on with life? All too often these days the joys of family life and the mutual support it brings are sacrificed and lost to other causes and pursuits. If I read your post correctly you experienced an entirely different reaction. I wonder why. Your reaction seems extreme and that it expressed itself as anger so targeted without empathy for fellow souls is something I'm sure is worth reflecting on. That you identified and described your fellow shoppers as women, fat, lycra clad and tattoed I can understand, but what cues visual or otherwise led to conclude they were on benefits? Was it just the extended time taken for cost benefit analysis and to consult over the considerd purchase of jaffa cakes on a limited budget? Was it something in your tone or demeanor as you mustered to utter an excuse me in a clear voice that caused the matriarch to round on you? What did she detect in that tone that prompted her to use the plural, assigning you to a type rather than acknowledge you as an individual? Did she detect that you for your part saw not only her but her family as a type? Is your superior attitude the result of you being a pompous ass or was it that you saw something of yourself reflected that so frightened you?
Alan old fruit thank you for your long and considered post. In this age of cyber ribaldry you skewered me true and proper, like a full fat shish kebab soaked in sugary lard with a dollop of my own sense of inflated self.
I am aware that this particularly delightful grandmother and mother are indeed recipients of state benefits, notably disability benefits, as I was informed of the fact by a scrupulous source that was at one time the family case worker, thankfully this person no longer works in the social work department and only encounters former clients on provision forays. Naturally client confidentiality bars me from confiding further details…I’m sure you’ll understand, I hasten to add these ladies, did not know me from Adam.
Perhaps you’re correct, I can be a pompous ass. I do rail against the mentality that takes comfort in sloth and indolence, that perpetuates the mistakes of the past by feeding bairns cheese in string form and discount brand Jaffa cakes. Perhaps I subscribe such characteristics too hastily with little regard for sensitivities. May haps I also see a future of me sporting a spoiled simmet surrounded by the detritus of dried out Jaffa cakes, an eight day growth and the merest shy memory of the last time I saw my winkie.
Our obesity rates are terrifying, a GP chumrade is rightly horrified that he regularly encounters young children whose BMI is in the 95th centile, aka morbidly obese. 10-year-old girls should not be wearing adult woman size 16 jeans.
I do apologise if I was too scathing and offended those in the endomorphic range. Can I ask, since you’ve only ever had one profile view, did you join blogger solely to make this one comment, or am I just the lucky recipient of your contribution?
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