Tag Archives: shopping

The Life of a Bag For Life

11 Oct

In theory, if the government issued 10 Bags For Life to every household in Britain, there would no longer be a need to produce any more. The Bag for Life could get passed down through generations in each family, like a treasured heirloom, and fines could be imposed for any bags that get lost.  However, it is not that easy, because as everyone knows, a Bag for Life is never valued as it should be. On average, the life span of a Bag for Life is three weeks, with the oldest bag on record living to an extraordinary 4 months. This is a look at the brief life of a bag for life:

Birth – A Bag for Life is born; sprouting from a machine that has no feelings towards the bag, and is not willing to bond with it in the slightest. The bag, manufactured from fabric such as canvas, woven synthetic fibers, or a thick plastic that is more durable than disposable plastic bags, has no parents as such, so born an orphan, it sets out on its life journey. Little does it know it yet, but the Bag for Life will have a very short life span.

School Years – The Bag for Life meets other bags as they are sandwiched into tight boxes. It is here that they get to know one another. The bright slogans and positive messages printed on each bag lull them all into a false sense of security, as they all wonder what is in store for them. ‘Maybe we’ll be famous? Maybe we’ll live in a lovely household?’ they all think. Never has one bag guessed its true purpose in life at this stage; slavery. The bags will shortly be sold to the public and then be forced to carry extremely heavy objects around.

Adolescence – After a week in transit and storage, the Bags for Life are released from their cage and put onto display like some sort of freak show. Hanging from metal poles, they are paraded in front of the public. Plastic bags point and laugh at them; “What the Hell are you supposed to be?”, they sneer, and they have a point. A plastic bag never gets forgotten. It becomes part of its occupant’s family, dwelling in drawers and cupboards, often with numerous plastic bag friends. It has a happy life. Yes, some may be used as a makeshift poop-a-scoop, but they have been bred for this purpose and so are undeterred by this. The bullying toughens up the Bags for Life, and they get a bit of a backbone, standing up for themselves and making an effort to find a home. “USE ME FOREVER!” they shout at shoppers, “I’LL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND”. It is a mistake that every Bag For Life makes. It is during adolescence that some Bags for Life even turn Emo, trying to not blend in with the bag crowd. ‘I’m not another plastic bag’ they tell people, in a desperate attempt to be different.

Graduating –  The Bag for Life is snapped up by a member of the public. It has a new home, and it is time to start work.

Working Years – As soon has a Bag for Life has graduated, its world gets turned upside down. Fooled into thinking that they would be starting a new, happy life, they are forced into work almost instantly. Their new owners burden them with shopping, almost to the point where the Bag for Life gives up on life. It is strained, pushed to its very limits as a bag. Their new owner doesn’t care, all they care about is getting their shopping home. The Bag for Life tenses every muscle in its body; it will die instantly if it doesn’t. Very soon, they arrive at their new home. ‘Maybe this was a test?’ the bag thinks. ‘I’ve got the shopping home, now I’ll be part of this person’s life!’. Once again, the Bags for Life are deluded. They are simple creatures, bless them. No sooner has the shopping been unloaded, they are folded up and pushed into a cupboard.

Retirement – Blinking, and trying to see in the dark cupboard, the Bag for Life comes to terms that his working days are already over. His time is up. Every Bag for Life wonders at this stage, ‘maybe my owners will use me again soon?’. Once again, they are wrong. The Bag for Life is then set upon by up to 50 plastic bags. They jostle for space and inevitably force the Bag for Life to the back of the cupboard. It only gets worse for the Bag for Life;  the plastic bags breed. There are soon more of them, pushing the Bag for Life further and further into the background, further into the darkness, the wilderness of the back of the cupboard. “We’re the main men around here, you ponce”, yell the plastic bags, hiding themselves inside one another to make a large fearless ball of plasticky madness.

Death? – No one quite knows if the Bag for Life dies, or simply disappears forever. This is still being investigated. All we know is that the owner of the Bag for Life will one day remember that they have it in the cupboard. This usually occurs between two and three weeks after the purchase of their bag slave. ‘I need a sturdy bag for this junk’ they think to themselves, ‘and I’m certain I have one in the cupboard’. But when they got to look for the Bag, it is gone. No search will ever result in the Bag for Life being found; it has moved on to somewhere new. Instead, the plastic bags once again get used, often doubling up with their mates. It is a sad end to the life of the Bag for Life. They die alone.

Spice up your life, a little.

11 Sep

It’s quite easy to get frustrated when food shopping. If you’re not getting assaulted in the back of the heels by OAP with an out of control trolley, then you’re doing your best to not to lose your temper at the fact that all the items you need are out of stock, so you have to wait 15 minutes whilst one of the minions has to go and ‘check out the back’ for you. On top of all this, it’s really quite boring.

To overcome this completely mundane weekly chore, I thought I’d try and inject a bit self-satisfying amusement into the task. I came up with this; Sweary Herbs and Spices. It’s really quite simple; spell out a few risque words using the herbs and spices that are on offer for an unsuspecting shopper to find later once you are long gone.

Here are a couple of examples:

Sneaked this in, but it was still noticeable as it was at eye-level

 

Tits; the last thing you'd expect to see in the herb section.

 

Have a go, and send me your examples to share.

IKEA – Why I hate it

11 Aug

One of the worst phrases that a man can hear in his lifetime is ‘Shall we go to IKEA this weekend?’ It’s up there with those other dreaded expressions such as ‘Time at the bar please’, ‘She lied about being 16’ and ‘You’ve got a terminal illness’.

 IKEA is a monumental waste of time and energy; an endless warren of paths and passageways leading the customer on a merry meander through the store. Once you’ve stepped inside, you can’t turn back. No, this is against the rules. You must follow the arrows that have been painted onto the floors until you reach the exit; but the exit never comes. Ok, it does, but only after at least a 3 hour rove through the narrow corridors, which only to widen so that they can fit in an example bedroom or a basket of 1000 cushions in front of your path. If you do make an attempt at turning back, you are soon ushered forward again by the brain-dead IKEA lovers who mope through the endless trails like cattle heading for slaughter.

 The choice on offer at IKEA is vast, but only a handful of any particular type of product is worth having. For every 300 shelving solutions on offer, only 1 would suit your home, but as luck would have it, you don’t really like it anyway. Then you’ve got the problem that if you do like it, you can’t fit it in your car to take home with you. FUCKSOCKS!

The only solution here, or for anyone who doesn’t like the crowds, is to use the IKEA website. Now this in itself is a much more enjoyable experience; no crowds, no getting tempted to buy things you don’t need and you can leave at any time. But this is where IKEA lulls you into a false sense of security.  Everything seems to be going smoothly and then, ‘WHAT IN SHITCOCKS NAME? IT’S £35 TO DELIVER A POXY LAMPSHADE?!’

 You see IKEA charge £35 delivery per order. It doesn’t matter how little or how much you order, you will always pay £35. Now this wouldn’t be too bad if you love decking your home out with IKEA sofas, wall units and beds, but if you just want to order a cutlery set, you still have to pay £35. It’s almost enough to make you go back and face the monotony of the place and the brain-dead public. Almost, but not quite, because when shopping at home you still have the luxury of being able to eat and drink when and what you like. In IKEA, they reward your impressive conquering of its many alleyways with a choice of either meatballs or an all day breakfast. Yum yum; food for all the family. I know some people that have actually gone to IKEA just for the meatballs. Why? Why do they do it? Are they insane? The meatballs have the texture of a dog’s testicle and taste worse (probably).

 I feel sorry for any man who is dragged to IKEA by his other half on a weekend. My thoughts go out to you, they really do. Is there anything worse? Josef Fritzl’s daughter will probably wish she was still hidden away once she visits IKEA. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if IKEA release a ‘build-your-own-private basement’ package on the back of Fritzl’s ‘success’.  Other items I would suggest for their range include:

 –  The Anne Frank Storage Cupboard. A fantastic flat pack product that you can fit into the smallest of spaces, turning a previously unused space into a perfect storage solution.

 –  The Homo Pillow. A plumper, comfier pillow, built for durability for those that like to bite them.

 –   Michael Jackson Laminate Flooring. Perfect for moonwalking on, or for wiping up any, erm, mess

–    The Lenny Henry Mattress. Reinforced on one side in case you have a preference for fat birds.

I advise anyone to heed my advice. Give IKEA a wide berth, if your missus will let you…

10 reasons why I hate shopping

22 May

Doing a weekly food shop is a pet hate of mine. There are so many things to get wound up about:

1) When people stand in front of the products I’m trying to get to and don’t bother moving out of the way, even though they can tell I need to get to the shelf. This infuriates me. Part of me wants to scream ‘MOVE, KNOBHEAD’, whereas the other part of me just wants to pick up a jam jar and caress their face with it. However, I’ve found the best thing to in this situation is to put both of your hands in your trouser pockets, jiggle them furiously, whilst making eye contact with the inconsiderate fool in front of you. This guarantees results, everytime.

2) People that eat stuff on the way round and then pay for the empty packet. Can’t they wait a few minutes until they’re outside? Better still; drop the empty packet on the floor.

3) The amount of people that follow the person who reduces prices around. So strange. ‘Yummy, a mouldy radish and a 25p slice of ham for dinner; bargain!’ They make me sick.

4) There is always something that I require out of stock, so I either have to wait for a couple of days to go back to the same supermarket, or drive elsewhere. Twice the pain.

5) People with bad trolley etiquette. You know the ones. They leave their trolley and go swanning off to get something else, but they leave the trolley sat in front of a popular shelf, such as the milk. I put random items in the trolleys of people that do this. I recommend cucumbers and Vaseline, if you’re thinking of giving this a go.

6) The fact that some people will walk up and down the aisle in front of the checkouts for about 10 minutes, waiting for one where they can get served immediately, when they could have just queued up and waited patiently and would have probably have been served by the time an empty checkout arrives.

7) Miserable checkout staff. Now, I know that I’d probably be as miserable as sin if I had to do their job, but if they hate it so much, then why don’t they leave? Most of them greet you with a forced and mumbled ‘Good Afternoon’, to which I usually reply, ‘Yes thanks, well, better than yours I imagine’. If they’re going to serve me looking like I’ve just inserted their nose into my sphincter, then I will rub salt into their gaping wounds. Also, I never let them help me with my bagging, because none of them have seemed to grasp the ‘double-bagging’ rule for heavy items.

8.) Old boys that plod around shops (with their wives) with their arms behind their backs, like some sort of military sergeant, inspecting the place.

9) The parking is always a nightmare. You’re looking for a parking space but there doesn’t seem to be one available. What’s this? Someone’s leaving – look; they’re loading their shopping into their car! Just wait here until they finish…. That’s it little shopper man, take your trolley to the trolley bay and then get back in your car…. What are you doing? Why aren’t you moving? …The reverse lights should come on in a bit and I’ll get in your space – It’s busy, there aren’t any others around. HURRY UP YOU FUCKING COCKSPANNER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE? READING? FUCKING READING?! FOOORRRRGODDDDSAAAAAKKEEE! ARRGGHHH!
Also, I think that if the disabled spaces weren’t so close to the front of the store, people would be less inclined to park in them.

10) The trolleys that you have to ‘rent’ for £1. I never have a pound coin on me so I have to walk to a cash point, withdraw £10, go into the store, buy something pointless and get the change.Why do they bother? I know people steal trolleys, but in my opinion it would be even better to say to a mate,

“Do you like my trolley?”

“Yeah, it’s alright”

“Guess how much it cost me?”

“Go on”

“One pound! Fucking result!”

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