Too fat to give a f**k.

A begrudged venture into the Tescorpse in deepest Dumfropolis this afternoon brought me face to face with the gaping maws of an obese granny, daughter and grand-daughter who were taking up the entire central aisle as they debated the calorific contents of store brand low value Jaffa cakes versus the real deal flavoursome, but slightly more expensive are-they-a-cake-or-a-biscuit ones. As politely as I could muster, I uttered in a clear voice, "Excuse me" to the 20 plus stones of lycra clad tattoo that had successfully accomplished a breeding task and squeezed a mini me out between second breakfasts and her next appearance on the Jeremy Kyle show. Those that have met me know that I'm no midget, I'm a hefty lad too, but I felt compellingly anorexic squeezing past these benefit behemoths.

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.