Saturday, 16 December 2006

Super market Pranks

Few days ago went with the wife to the Doctor’s Surgery. She had a 10 o’clock appointment for a flu jab. I don’t qualify for one (deemed to be expendable - kill the old men off first).

She had to wait until past 11 o’clock. We were sharing the section of the Waiting Room set aside for the Emergency Clinic. (If you haven’t got an appointment, you wait there for hours to see a Doctor). Most of the people there should have been in bed.

Try phoning up to get a Doctor to make a home visit. You have to have a certificate signed by 10 Doctors certifying you are too ill to attend the surgery, before a Doctor agrees to make a home visit.

People coughing and wheezing all over the place. One poor woman lying across two chairs.

The result - last night started coughing, sweating, shivering - I got the BL**DY flu!!!!

What’s worse it’s Saturday. I had planned to make a visit today to at least three supermarkets.

Walk around with my empty trolley, block the aisle. Ask young mothers (especially ones with unruly kids) to hand down items from the top shelf, take one look at the item, hand them back and walk away. Never say sorry or give an explanation. Even the most placid get annoyed by that. (I hear them “muter muter ignorant old man”).

Buy only one item in each store, (I do my weekly shop on Tuesday morning, - hardly any parents with kids or old people around - I‘m not stupid).

Where was I? Buy one item in each and pay by cheque. You can’t imagine the queue you can build-up behind you when you pay by cheque. Few minutes searching every pocket for the cheque book. With luck the Check-out Attendant hasn’t a pen - always good for another couple of minutes. Then look for your glasses. All the time you must turn around and look at the ever increasing queue and smile. That really gets them really really annoyed when you smile.

On a good day, I recon I can (unknowing to them) recruit 4 youngones per queue to the “Grumpy Training Scheme”.
It gives a great sense of satisfaction when you know you have recruited the next generation of Grumpy Old Farts. You were there at the start of a lifetime of complaining and general indignation

But here I am suck indoors with a thermometer stuck up my bum!! One good fart and I could shoot the wife right between the eyes. It’s her fault in the first place that I got the flu. (Why is the thermometer stuck in my arse not in my mouth - my wife says that‘s the place you have to put it - she saw it done that way on a vet programme on TV).

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