I duns both of these things.
Nightcrew in a supermarket was fun. Racing about the aisles on the pallet movers and making the one pound dinner allowance stretch to whatever the fuck you wanted cause you put it through the tills yourself, as was pissing around on the forklift.

Working in an off-licence wasn't as much fun. Back breaking deliveries which had to be carried by hand to the stock room upstairs. Neddy little fuckers wanting served who were clearly underage. Getting held up at knife-point. The worst though was the jakey old regulars who waited at the door every morning for the place to open. The sort of shaky emaciated old folks who bought either a large bottle of frosty jacks and a half of vodka or a large bottle of British cream sherry and a half bottle of whiskey. These sad old fucks would wander back in about three and get four cans of spesh or a half bottle of gin. I always felt bad serving them.

Oh, and mrs scratchit. So called cause she spent her whole time buying scratch cards. She could stand there for a fucking hour or two, buying 20 at a time and scratching away, annoying the fuck out of you by taking whatever she won in more scratchcards.

I feel sorry for these addicts but proves that it's not just kids that are fuckups, old cunts are just as bad. BROKEN BRITAIN!!
( mark morrisons prison shoes I love Willie, Mon 14 May 2012, 7:55, Reply)