So now the wife has seen for herself the harsh and surreal conditions of life in the Retail Complex, aka Sir Morrisons.
Picture the scene. The wife in a tearing hurry with a basket of essential life support commodities ( organic, fair traded no GM content) clutched feverishly in an anxious hand as she rushes to the basket only check out. Short queue-second in line; hah! But what is this, the sole obstacle to paying and pushing off is the guy in front with the largest Sir M Trolley* crammed to the gunwales and beyond.
'Sorry Sir' says kind but firm Check Out Lady ' Baskets only- as indicated on that prominent sign above your head'
'No problem' says the g-i-f. And he slowly but methodically empties his trolley into 5 baskets left by previous customers. Wife steaming and still behind-no way past 5 baskets and a beer belly.
G-i-f pays (cash 2p by 2p) and departs stage right. The wife gets away, eventually, with at least a couple of items now past their sale by date.
So next time I blog about Sir Morrisons she may now realise that like the biblical lilies of the field I spin not. Honest, plain, unvarnished truth with a hint of lemon. So unlike the aspiring cub reporter e-mailing his Tabloid editor from some far flung disaster area:
'Impossible to exaggerate seriousness of situation here.But I will do my best'
* Another reason for shopping in Morrisons
(The image may well be of the offending trolley)
Labels: Sir Morrison's