I don’t get the fascination with any of the following……

Self service check out’s in supermarkets – You know the one’s I mean, where you swan up to the complicated looking self swipe till, ping your crispy pancakes and cut price crab sticks through and then panic as various display options flash before your eyes on the computer screen. You eventually crumble under the sheer stress of it all and call over the young girl who oversees the self service check out. She has to be young of course, because no one under the age of 27 knows how to use the bloody thing. She has the brains, but there’s a problem to which she does not have the authority to deal with, so she calls the supervisor, who is obviously 28 or above as no one below the age of 27 is capable of making a rational decision.

So now, this self service check out, who’s aim in life is to cut down on labour costs for the supermarket, and be convenient and quick for me, has now become a two man job for the supermarket, and a waste of fucking time for myself. At the end of the day, you can have all the fancy machinery in the world, but the simple fact is, people are fucking stupid. Me included.

People who take the paper for a shit – For God’s sake man, get in there, drop that build up of waste in the pan and get the fuck out. You can read the paper when you have finished. Just concentrate on the task at hand and then use your day doing more productive things such as, watching loose women or deciding which one of Adrian Chiles’ eyes you would like to punch first.

On the subject, I was in one of these Tesco express stores the other day, where I strolled to the check out with a bog roll in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. The check out girl looked at me in disgust, and as if I was going to go home, lock myself in the shit house and read the very paper I had bought. In my head I was smiling, as I was really going home to have a wank over page 27 and use the tissue paper to clean myself up with afterwards.

Wearing scarf’s and hats with t-shirts – If you do this, you’re a cunt. End of.

Jehovah’s opting for the suited look? – They knock your door asking you to find the God that I thought we were all meant to find ourselves, all the time, looking more like they are trying to sell me a Dyson than ask me to join their cult. I didn’t realise the policy was, that only the 144’000 best dressed Witnesses were allowed into post-apocalyptic heaven. Read a fucking Science book for pity’s sake.

Beach holidays to Majorca, Lanzarote, Ibiza etc etc – I recently spoke to someone at work who had just came back from Menorca. I said how was it? He said ‘it was great, all the food tasted proper English, and everything was served with chips. The football was constantly on and if there was no football, they would put Eastenders or Xfactor on.’ I just don’t get it? My suggestion is, buy yourself a fucking heat lamp, buy some frozen shit from Iceland, bang a tv in the garden, and save yourself a couple of grand in the process.

Working in fashionable shops– Yes, I know fuck all about the iphone, no I didn’t know an Omega speed master watch worked in space and no, I can’t justify that extortionate cost your quoting me for that little bit of foundation for my girlfriend. Guys who work in Birmingham’s Selfridges are the worse offenders. They obviously get the store discount and strut around wearing hundreds of pounds worth of clothes, and when normal folk like me walk in the shop, they give the look of ‘you couldn’t possibly afford to buy any of these ludicrously expensive clothes.’ I just feel like saying, ‘Mate, make the most of those tight jeans and pointy shoes because when your thirty your being moved to the Ted Baker section to sell sensible t-shirts to dad’s with young children, This will be your life right up until the age of forty when your going to be moved to the suit department where you will be forced to sell pink ties to men suffering mid life crisis’s. Don’t stop there though, because when your fifty you will be transferred to the book department where the highlight of your day will be selling romance novels to rich career women in there fifties who were to busy working in there thirties to find themselves a man, and now there past there best so the only way to get over the lonely nights is to slouch on the sofa, drinking red wine, whilst fingering themselves over the Jane Eyre novel you sold them. When you are sixty, I’ll come and visit you as I spend my retirement days buying extortionately priced but equally scrummy Belguim biscuits off you. Don’t worry though, after the inevitable generation after generation of Tory government you will get to work there until you are at least seventy, all for the minimum wage you fucking Topman ponce.’

I’m not knocking anyone on the minimum wage, I’m just knocking anyone who’s main aspiration in life is to look ‘cool’ and exactly like everyone else in the Arcadian on a Saturday night.
(Sir_Digby_Chicken_Caeser [email protected], Fri 16 Oct 2009, 18:35, 5 replies)

Sir, thank you...
for your piece on people who work in "fashionable" shops, I've always felt the same but never put it quite so eloquently.
(Laxly, Fri 16 Oct 2009, 20:00, closed)

Mine
is inappropriate use of '
(dchurch bah, Sat 17 Oct 2009, 11:13, closed)

You know you're in danger of turning into a boring old cunt when
You read a post on B3ta and really want to correct the poster's use of there/they're/their. I shall now make up for this getting oldness by taking lots of drugs and getting pissed.
(mmm....beer, Sat 17 Oct 2009, 19:39, closed)

Hmmmmm
In regard to self-service checkouts. I've often wondered about placing a ripped-out barcode from a newspaper over a Mojo/Empire/Nuts/FHM barcode and seeing if you could get away with it or would the alarm ring as you exited.
Hmmmmmmmmmm.
( Ultimate Cakes & Sweets Why,what are you planning to do - photosynthesize?, Sun 18 Oct 2009, 22:14, closed)

The funny thing is
that the really rich people who they would like to get commission off selling way overpriced trinkets, very often do look like scruffy bastards.
Why? Well if you own half of Hertfordshire and have 40 million in the bank, you really don't need to impress people with a flash suit or two grand rolex. Example that you might recall is Lord Bath. Wealthy, shags more than the lions in the safari park, and looks like a loon.

Fact buying flashy crap with money you don't have, doesn't make you look impressive. It makes you look like a wannabe twat in Armani
(Sir Tainley Barking Ezekiel 23:20, Mon 19 Oct 2009, 22:31, closed)