King of Excellent (according to Scaryduck)

Sunday, May 23

One of the great unheards of all time

Fuckwit Alert...You know how it goes. You have no food in the fridge, the milk has turned to a rather unsavoury brand of live yoghurt, and the freezer is doing nothing more then freezing the air inside it. Well I was at that stage today, so I decided to take the rather suicidal approach of visiting my local Asda's. Now don't get me wrong, I hate supermarkets at the best of times but this place takes the biscuit. I have taken to calling it fuckwit central, because people there really are like an advertisement for lobotomies. The car park has designated areas, and if one thing gets my goat its people that park in the wrong places. Many (many many) people can't be arsed to walk the horrendously difficult 100 yards from their car to the door, so they decide it would be quicker and easier if they park in the disabled spot. Many a time I have heard "I'll only be a minute" as they can be seen dashing in with a shopping list from hell, and an exasperated husband in tow.

One time I had accidently spilt a fuel additive on my hand, and knew that I had to get to a public toilet to wash it off before it became a chemical burn. Asda's was the first choice, and heading into the car park on a Sunday afternoon the usual suspects for f.w. central were there; old people in Nissan Micra who never drive more then 100 miles a year, and people carriers full of screaming kids. Well on this particular day some poor old sod got in my way, its his fault for driving at 0.00000001mph. "Fucking get the fucking fuck out the fucking way you fucking fuckwit" I screamed at him as my right hand started to look like a pizza. He just stopped, looked at me in a way that I will never forget, looked at his wife and looked at me again at which point I took off like Michael Schumacher towards an empty space.

Today was different. I went in and was wondering around the people tutting at the price of fruit and veg, when an announcement by the *greeter* (see note) requested the second greeter meet him at the front door. Not that unusual I here you cry, but it was followed by the immortal line, "I can't at the moment Damian, I am in the fish." All the fuckwits around me couldn't understand why I was laughing, and even my son started edging away from me thinking I had finally lost it completely. How much fun is that!

"I can't at the moment Damian, I am in the fish."


(note) A greeter is the person hired by asda's to point out that baskets are for carrying things in, trolleys are to be used to block aisles, and the toilets are over there. They are by the front door, and can be heard sometimes with a radio mic reminding customers of the latest bargains on sale. (I will oneday get the frequency of the radio mic, and have fun myself by announcing 99% off on the housewares aisle, but thats another story)