SUPERMARKET SHOPPING and OTHER PEOPLE


I have been SUPERMARKET SHOPPING. I’ve used capitals to convey that it’s a BIG THING. I did not enjoy it. It’s something I try to avoid. There are several things I found far from pleasant, the first and worst being that THEY LET OTHER PEOPLE IN WHEN I’M THERE!!! They close shops to OTHER PEOPLE when the Queen wants to shop, so it’s hardly unreasonable that they should do the same for me, is it??

It’s bad enough having to speed walk for miles trying to find required items, which have been moved now the festive season is over - of course they will not have moved them back to where they were before – NO! - you have to find them all over again, only to find that in about two weeks time they’ve been moved again to make way for over-packaged, over-priced Easter eggs. So I’m walking and swearing out loud trying to find things only to be blocked at every turn by OTHER PEOPLE! I tell you, it really fucks up the shopping experience BIG TIME!

One of the worst things is Trolley Use. People drive them like they drive cars, i.e. badly of course. It’s a race to get into or out of the aisle before you, a war of wills as to who backs down and gets out of the fucking way, it’s like children on the dodgem cars. For goodness sake grow up! You see?? Not only do these morons called OTHER PEOPLE make the roads dangerous, they can also kill you when you’re buying your dinner!

When not using them to maim, they delight in another pastime called ‘Blocking the Aisle’. Unlike evolved souls like me, who expertly and neatly tuck trolleys alongside the shelves, leaving plenty of room to drive a tank through, OTHER PEOPLE position theirs to prevent even a sheet of newspaper to pass. They’re all basket cases, so make them use baskets!! It’s enough to send me off my trolley!!!

Leaving the Battleground of Trolleys, we enter the Pleasure Park, frequented by those for whom shopping is a major highlight of excitement to be savoured to the very hilt. This necessitates doing everything ….V……..E……..R……Y …… S…….L…….O……W…….L……..Y.

Pleasure is enhanced by walking abreast and ambling along, stopping frequently to scrutinise each of the tens of thousands of items offered, to take them off the shelves, to put them back again, stopping anew to pour meaningless crap through a mobile phone to a recipient who responds with more meaningless crap. This is a variation of Aisle Blocking, in that they will be using their bodies, rather than the trolley. More sinister yet, is that they may actually be carrying baskets. I've decided this is not a good idea after all. They will deposit them at your feet whilst you are reaching up to a shelf. Yes, you will fall over it and hurt yourself and you will be blamed for not looking where you were going and be shouted at. If you are anything like me - i.e. sane - you will want to kill them.

Rudeness is another horror. Those who reach right in front of me to get something, like I’m invisible. I always say in a really loud voice “EXCUSE ME WOULD BE GOOD” and they look at me like I’ve said something mad. I suppose they don’t recognise the expression, associated as it is to Politeness, explaining why their faces are suddenly suffused by bewilderment. And the staff are no better, the only difference being they push me aside to put something ON the shelf and they have mostrous trolleys, so are even better at Aisle Blocking.

Possibly my pet hate is that they let them bring their children with them. Believe me, these brats are far from being pets. Where is that charming approach “Children should be seen but not heard” when we need it? Actually, I don’t want to see them either. (Don’t get me started on overpopulation) If children are allowed to make ghastly shrieking noises and run around taking things off shelves, opening packets and generally creating an annoying, unhealthy environment, they should be gagged and tied to a trolley. There! I knew there had to be a good use for them. And the parents should have to pay double.

Eventually the CHECK OUT. I will probably find myself queueing behind the slowest bag packer in the world, who refuses to get their money or bit of plastic out until EVERY SINGLE BIT of shopping is bagged. That is if he/she can find it. There will probably be a query as to a 'special offer' that doesn't look all that special after all, but we all have to wait half-an-hour for someone 'superior' to come and discuss it, wave keys around over the till, go and look at a shelf, wave keys again and then give lengthy instructions to person operating till. After all this waiting, it is my turn to be 'served', whence I am expected to pack and pay at the speed of light and get the fuck out before I annoy somebody!!!!  ?????

To think that I’ll have to do it again!! And God help me if I forget my list …….

The Turner (Turder?) Prize

We might concede that some of the entries for the Turner Prize have artistic integrity, but the results of a recent poll I conducted (I asked my arty friends) concluded that most of the winners’ offerings are crap. Noting that you can, nonetheless, get a lot of money and artistic credibility by winning, I mused on this for a time and was rewarded with a stroke of creative genius.

I will endeavour to create some crap and win. Simplicity is often a quality of great genius. I thought that my Work should encompass a statement covering a broad spectrum of modern life. And of course, I should not forget those all-important ‘juxtapositions’. Much of modern life is indeed crap - global meltdown, financial meltdown, emotional and psychological meltdown. What could describe this better than a pile of shit? So that will be my entry.

This will be a great big heap of poo. It will have a random and natural aspect, as I will have collected it from various sources. I won’t go into details here, but believe me, I will have earned this prize. It will also be kinetic art, as a cunning little device below the heap will send steam upwards for realistic effect. My own unique finishing touches will be the artfully arranged bits of soiled bog paper, into which people can read lots of hidden, meaningful messages. Further, this will be a piece of living art as flies and bluebottles will dance prettily upon and around it, singing their songs of decay.

And as if this was not enough, it will also be interactive, as you will be able to write your own theory as to why the world has turned to shit on a piece of bog roll and toss it into the exhibit. Alternatively, you may leave your own contribution to the work. You can vote with your bum.

It will be a sensation and will probably lead to the event being re titled the ‘Turder Prize’ in my honour.

No More Sex Till He’s Potty Trained!

Sir, are you potty trained? Ladies, Is your man potty trained? What do we mean by this? Simply the ability to pee in a potty and not on the floor. This also means peeing correctly into a grown up potty which we call a lavatory. Possibly an advanced idea to a certain type of male mind. Stay with me boys, I am making this as simple as possible.

How many men are able to leave a lavatory clean? Precious few? Is the sight of male egos standing, legs splayed, peeing over almost everything in sight a pleasant one? No. It is worse when they are drunk. And it gets even worse as they get older. As the eyesight goes and the legs get tottery, you get treated to lots more drips and splashes and pools. Fortunately, as time goes on, they get past the forgetting to close their flies bit and move on to the forgetting to open them approach. This is only good if they don’t live with you and you can send them home immediately.

So how can this problem be treated? Should it be? Yes, it bloody well should! Why should other people (i.e.women) clean up? Because these men don’t? Pants (and bollocks) to that! The only answer is to stop him doing it. Now why didn’t we think of that before? So how do we do this? Well, we must teach him properly. Show him that the only civilised way to pee is to sit down. All the tosspots who are wetting themselves in protest, claiming it is unnatural for men to pee sitting down deserve to have their faces rubbed on the bathroom floor after they have been in there. Who says it is natural for men to pee standing up? Only men, because it lets them adopt an arrogant, dominant stance.

There is no difficulty whatsoever in sitting down and pointing your willy down between your legs. And there is the added advantage of getting to handle it all by yourself, in private, legitimately (Do remember to pee first). No guilty jumping at a knock on the bathroom door. “Just having a pee dear!” Much, much more civilised, and possibly fun.

Come on boys, we have had enough of Mr. Primitive. Get yourselves potty trained quick in case women take this advice - “No more sex till he’s potty trained!”

Technology and Cars - Driving Me Insane!

Now, are your sleeping patterns healthy? Yes? Well here’s something to fuck them up. Cars driven by computers. Yes, the technology already in cars is to be extended. It sends a chill up the spine to know that they are planning to hand over a few simple controls to the computers. Like starting. And steering. And stopping. Oh joy. I am somewhat concerned at the possibilities of these computers having “teething problems". Let’s hope they are not as stupid as the ones ‘working’ train doors. (See 'Technology and Trains')

But then again, perchance I rushed too hastily into condemnation on this one. Because most drivers are pretty stupid wouldn’t you agree? How did they ever pass their test? (eventually you will agree with something I say). If you agree that most drivers are unsafe, well done, you may be a good and considerate driver. I like you. Allow a wave of smugness to envelope you. On the other hand, you may be kidding yourself, you could be terrible. A good test is to observe your passengers. I do not normally advocate that you take your eyes from the road, but perhaps just for a second won’t hurt (if you are one of those tossers who eats, drinks and yacks into a mobile phone whilst driving then you are a stinking driver, you need not take this test). What you do is look at your passenger’s hands. Are they clenched and the knuckles white? Next look at their feet. Are they pumping up and down on imaginary brakes? Is the answer ‘yes’ to either or both of these? Then here is your test result. You suck.

So - computers in cars. This needs some thought. The problem is, we must decide if computers are more stupid than people. This is not an easy one. Almost all accidents are caused by drivers anyway, so would it be better or worse if computers took over? Hmmm…… There is that eloquent car sticker “ Designed by computer, built by robot, driven by moron.” It has some merit.

Hmm….hmmmm…thinks…….I know! Let’s breed better people, genetically modified to be able to drive! It beats me how no one has thought of this already. You could programme in all sorts of things, like hazard awareness and consideration and observation skills and enjoyment at driving at safe speeds. Oh. I see the dawning of a brand new day!

Technology and Shopping – I Need (Retail?) Therapy!

I am continuing with the Technology theme, because frankly bits of it are spooking me out. I actually love technology, I’m using it now, aren’t I? It’s great being able to get just about any kind of information from the internet without having to go to the library and risk having to deal with people having a bad day (just like yesterday and just like tomorrow).

Shopping is getting harder too. Insanity rules when computers take a sulk, (although I am a great fan of online shopping). Here is a scene. I am in the supermarket and have just come through the checkout without mishap. Well, the lady who put my stuff through didn’t get my jokes but this is not unusual. I put it down to a cultural thing as I am Scottish. They get me in Scotland. In fact they often joke first. I am feeling homesick but why should you care, so back to my point.

I still need a few items which are sold separately at the kiosk near the exit.

“I’ll have one of those and two of them please” I say. (See? I’m being polite.)

I can see the goods and I have the money to pay for them right there in my hand. What could be easier, get given the items, hand over the dosh and off I go. But no…….. No……. NO…….!!!

“Sorry, I can’t sell you anything” says the ‘I consider myself too good for this job but haven’t yet proven myself good enough to get another’ assistant with what I detect as malicious satisfaction.

“Oh,” says I “and why would that be?” (this politeness thing is already wearing thin).

“Because”, she smirks, “the till isn’t working.”

“And neither are you” I think, but don’t say, as I am still hoping that a transaction may be possible. Oh what a foolish naïve girl I am that to think that available goods can be exchanged for ready money.

“Could you not give me the things and I give you the money and you can ring it through when the computer decides to play again?” Smiling through my polite teeth now.

“No I can’t do that”, with near orgasmic pleasure, ”I’m not allowed”.

So nothing can be sold. It has to go through the computer. Marvellous. I have plenty of ideas of what can go through the damned computer. Like one of those ‘cheapest-price-ever-deadly-rays-microwave-ovens’ nice and handy nearby. Or ‘Miss-I’m-too-stupid-for-even-this-job-and-I-hate-everybody-I-serve’ is an attractive choice. But I am still in control of myself.

“What would happen if I just took the goods and placed the money on the counter?” I enquire innocently.

“I would have to call Security” she replies with relish.

“So I would be in trouble?”

“Oh yes!” Delightedly.

I walk away.

So there you go. In the past you could be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread to feed your starving children. Now you can be arrested for exchanging money for goods. Go figure.

Technology and Trains – Going off the Rails!

Do you love technology? Lots of us do. But let’s face it. Where once we ran with childlike innocence into a shining new world where our lives would be vastly improved by technology, now it is using us. If the network system collapsed, so would the “civilised” world…..

Take trains. I know that some of their workings have been computerised for a while but something that incenses me is the doors. Picture this. You are amongst a crowd standing on a crowded platform hoping to get on a train. You can’t. Why? The doors aren’t opening. You gaze at the angry frustration around you. You look inside the train at a crowd of people hoping to get off the train. They can’t. The doors won’t open. On their faces, the misery takes on a trapped angst. All are mouthing the same thing – “What’s wrong? Why won’t the doors open?”

I’ll tell you why. The computer has not yet decided to open the doors. It may never. This is shake-your-head-disbelief type of insane. You at least are able to walk away, but the poor hostages inside may have to call the SAS for rescue.

Look, we have two hands. A few unfortunates do not, but most people do. To accommodate these hands, train doors used to have handles, which we were able to operate using our hands. If your hands were full, someone else’s hands would deal with the handle for you. Oh, how I wallow in the nostalgia of these bygone days. Now new trains have been introduced, without handles. Commuters are telling us that they are late for work and appointments because they either cannot get on or cannot get off the trains. All this stress and inconvenience because there are NO FUCKING HANDLES! And this is supposed to be making life easier for us. How? What are we meant to do with our hands whilst we are waiting? Some of you will no doubt find lots of diversion in your old standbys, nose picking, arse scratching and - no, let’s not go there - but I would rather spend my time OPENING A DOOR! WITH MY HAND!

Let us probe this non-door opening problem a little deeper. I am told that the train computer is linked to a satellite dish way up in the sky. That’s right friend, a great big plate way up in the sky is now responsible for doing something (badly) you could do with your hands (well). The rail company tells us that these are mere ‘teething troubles’. Sorry, but I don’t happen to like being bombarded with harmful, unnecessary satellite rays when I have two good hands. This is more than “teething troubles”, this is gum troubles, jaw troubles, all the way to brain troubles. Yup, we’ve got train on the brain, ha! The delays in door opening seems to be the result of two things. One, the sodding technology is not sodding working and two, the sodding staff don’t know how to sodding work it. Stupid computers and stupid operators. The perfect recipe for fucking up your day. Great.

I am told that automated doors will prevent suicides (to the poor sods who are trapped on the train, the possibility of being able to throw themselves out of one must seem increasingly attractive). Well, if people want to kill themselves by train and can’t jump out of one, they can always throw themselves in front of it. Plus there many more imaginative options. If people really want to die, they will find a way, and no amount of love, therapy and support will stop them. Taking away our door handles will not save their lives, in fact it may give more people the idea. So don’t lock us in or out of trains. Mother Nature gave us hands for handles.