..on the way to the shops.
So, I've been outside this afternoon on a shopping trip to buy some foods and I'd like to discuss a few things about it with you if I may. Nothing really of note, just killing time really until my next snooze due in about an hour.
I went to Boots first. It's the only place I know of that sells Sushi. I fancied some sushi you see. I hope this doesn't mean I'm going through some grotesquely pretentious changes. If you see me wearing a black turtle neck jumper and a beret and wearing plastic sandals any time soon you're obliged to punch my face in.
I also bought a cajun chicken wrap just to keep the Subway Sammich people on their toes and to prove I'm not gay, but anyway I digress. On my way out there was a very pleasant young miss stood by the doors who looked not dissimilar to Natalie Imbruglia. The doors had 'PULL' written on them. It would have made an amusing photograph, alas I did not have my iPhone with me. 'An advice giving door' I would have entitled the picture. I had no time to take the doors' advice on this occasion however as I had a sammich to eat.
Back in Cartoon Town now and I came to a roundabout where a dude to my right, who obviously had right of way, was just sitting there in his Renault Megan not moving.
I was about to offer him up a verbal assault the likes of which he'll have never heard before, when I suddenly realised why he wasn't able to pro-cede; there was pheasant in the middle of the road.
A pheasant of all things! I went from almost calling this bloke a spasticated cunt who musta got his license out of a box of cereal, to sharing a wry smile and a laugh with him. That's the power of nature that is. The power of nature.
I'd stopped marvelling at the power of nature by the time I pulled into the Co-op car park. I was about to execute a surgical strike on the meat and confectionery aisles. I needed steak and fudge and that's it and I was not about to be hoodwinked by their mind games into any further purchases.
Confronted with many red meats, I won't lie to you, I almost bought some fillet steak. After a minute or two of debate with myself I finally decided 'no I won't fucking bother, it's three times more expensive than rump steak and the way I cook the bastard it'll taste the same anyway.' A wise decision, a wise decision.
There was an old crone in the way of my next purchase. I wanted some of those little fudge bars urchins eat instead of fruit. I haven't had one of those since I was an urchin meself. A finger of fudge is just enough to give your kids a treat, a finger of fudge is just enough until it's time to eat...and so on.
Must be going on thirty years since I last enjoyed an innocent finger of fudge. Nowadays I can't even say 'finger of fudge' without thinking of something infinitely more filthy. So anyway, 'MOVE OLD CRONE' I was about to say as I had already lost time with my fillet steak deliberations, but then she moved anyway so that was alright. Confrontation avoided.
On my way home I witnessed a convoy of FOUR McCleans coaches ferrying even more old people somewhere I know not where. Have there been a Bingo championships in the town without anyone telling me? As we speak people, that still remains a mystery.
Anyway, I'm growing weary so I'll bid you good day.
simple Doris: two old ladies playing bingo yesterday
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