Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

Trolley Jacked! April 7, 2010

Beware trolley thiefs!

As is the custom in my house on a Saturday morning the alarm went off dead on 7.00am. I know that some of you are probably thinking…why the fuck does she get up that early on a weekend? But needs must. And this is the need to go grocery shopping. To hunt and gather my stocks of necessitates; vodka, crisps and ready meals…I mean organic fruit, veg and wholemeal bread of course.

“INTERNET DELIVERY SHOP!” – I hear you shouting. Trust me I’ve tried it and usually I am all in favour of paying somebody else to do the donkeywork for me, but the short dates on fresh produce they send really pisses me off! WTF are you sending me 3 loaves of bread that go out of date tomorrow for?! The best will in the world we can’t eat them in time.

So, I’m back to going to the soulless grocery store for a little Do It Myself.

I go early…the earlier the better and less chance that I will be overwhelmed by the Neanderthals that seem to be let out of the asylums on Saturdays and congregate in the supermarket. Don’t pretend that you haven’t seen them; holding up the que and blocking isles as they attempt to decipher what buy 3 for 2 means. Please, it’s not rocket science!

But, this morning things did not run to plan.

First of all I put the alarm on snooze and managed not to wake up until 7.45am. Shit…there will be more of them about!

I jump out of bed, throw on a tracksuit (well I want to blend) and head off to the forest, now known as the supermarket.

On my arrival to the gargantuan orange superstore, giant sliding doors peel back to let me in…and I didn’t even say “open sesame”

Instantly the glare of lights and easy listening music engulf me and I am just adjusting

to this artificial world when something sharp clips my ankles.

“Sorry love” A middle aged Neanderthal apologises to me.

Security alert: She has a trolley. This is not a laughing matter; a trolley in the hands of a mentally challenged individual could be a deadly weapon.

I do not respond to her apology. I do not say, “That’s alright”  I am not in the mood to be polite, instead I go for a ‘don’t do’ it again kinda look.

“I didn’t see you there”

You didn’t see my bright green tracksuit? So you’re blind as well as fucking stupid then, eh? And then I notice that she too is wearing a tracksuit. Holy shit, what am I becoming?

This is not a good start. Make this quick girl, You need to go home!

But where should I start? I survey the place, glance at my quickly scrawled list and head out into the forest of tall isles laden with products, where everything is for sale…for a price.

There are a few other hunter-gatherers, but it hasn’t got too bad yet.

Perhaps I can allow myself to have an extra half an hour in bed in the future.

I walk past a man grunting to his wife that he wants pork chops for dinner. She pushes past me to pick them up, grunts and throws them in her trolley. I didn’t know that cannibalism was now permitted?!

I ignore the pigs and begin my own foraging. An hour in and the trolley is full. I must admit I have a strange sense of satisfaction. The task has been long and arduous, but I’m finally there.

The trolley is almost over flowing. Something for everyone. Something everybody likes. Ice –cream for…

Shit I’ve forgotten the ice-cream!

I park up the trolley and make my way back out into the wilderness of people, freaks and trolleys to hunt for ice-cream.

I find and gather the ice-cream quickly, and then head back to the parked trolley. Only…it’s gone! The fucking trolley has totally disappeared. I’VE BEEN TROLLEY JAKCED!

In a split second I turn into a living breathing killing machine. I want that trolley and I want it fucking now! Darting left, then right my eyes scan the isles with precisions. And then I spot it! A cube shaped woman wearing an orange jacket is running away with it. I got you now bitch!

“STOP!” I yell out like I’m police.

All the Neanderthal shoppers stop. In fact the whole fucking place comes to a standstill (obviously they’ve all had dealings with the police before).

In the distance I can see that the human cube has also turned around to face me. I spot her work badge…she fucking works here. They actually pay her to steal peoples trolleys?

And it is quite clear, even from here (15 metres away) that she is a Neanderthal too! This supermarket obviously has a policy of supporting care in the community. Her mouth has that open, gormless look and although she has not dyed the gray hair on her head, she seems to have had a go at her bushy eyebrows, which are an unnatural shade of black.

“Take your hand off my trolley!” I scream out to her.

The human cube does as she is told and I walk briskly towards her. My eyes transfixed on the black caterpillars crawling across her forehead.

“I thought it was dumped” She dribbles at me.

Dumped! Dumped. No…cars and unwanted dogs get dumped. Not a fuck load of groceries that took ages to gather together. WTF would somebody waste an hour filling it, only to dump it?

“Why would you think that? It’s full. It obviously belongs to somebody”

“You’d be surprised how many people dump em. Still keeps me in a job” Her black eyebrows move up and down as she begins to chuckle.

WTF! She thinks this is funny! How many people have fallen victim to this cretin?

Mental note to self: Get the fuck out of bed when the alarm goes off, or step into the world of morons.

Advertisements
 

Who let the mad one out alone! March 26, 2010

Filed under: Stupid Bitches,Supermarket Sound Offs. — bitchpedia @ 9:49 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Oh my god!

To be contd...

I have just been attacked at the checkout by an old lady who was clearly mad.

The lying old bitch thought it was OK to pinch my arm and viciously shake it several times because she had left her lights on in her car and wanted to go in front of me.

FUCK OFF…and line up like everyone else!!