15.6.13 The Skelton Skip

I thought it was high time I relayed some of the useless fucking inane drivel that leaves the mouths of twats, most of who either don't know what they are saying, or don't realise that they are anatomically equipped to say something other than a cliche (even if mentally they are thick cunts).  Then there are the fuckers who work on autopilot, displaying the symptoms of verbal diarrhoea [UK spelling].

This last trait was evident as fuck to Mrs MWSC when she and Junior went to the new local ASDA a couple of hours ago.  I refused to venture to this swamp of human confusion after my first visit proved what I'd foreseen - that the place would be the 'bricks & mortar' equivalent of a useless cunt.  It was, of course, exactly that, filled with the smaller human equivalents.  Mrs MWSC has just relayed what a trying experience it was, establishing that various items on her small list were not stocked in this roadside skip.

To be fair, one (and only one) of the items she wanted was indeed rather outlandish for this area - haggis.  Other larger ASDA stores cope with this delicacy, but not the Skelton Skip, where staff try to outdo each other with inanity.

Mrs MWSC:  "Excuse me, do you have any haggis available."
Meat Section Moron:  "Do we have any haggis?"  [Directed at an Associate Meat Moron]
Associate Meat Moron:  "No, we're out of stock."  [Directed at the Meat Section Moron]
Meat Section Moron:  "No we're out of stock."  [Directed at Mrs MWSC]
Mrs MWSC then turns away, not surprised that another item is out of stock, but then hears him go on -
Meat Section Moron:  "What's haggis?"  [Directed to Associate Meat Moron]

I cannot report how the conversation then proceeded as Mrs MWSC was keen to vacate the meat section, where there was severe danger that the minced turkey would suddenly start communicating and increasing the IQ of the establishment's staff by an average of 79.

The place was heaving, and this was NOT a result of it being Saturday, but rather the result of the store being newly opened (last Monday) and locals leaving their caves to see the establishment as though they were on a fucking trip to Lourdes.  The shop (as I have previously reported) was plonked on a lovely green field, alongside a small industrial estate where 90% of the units are vacant.  Clearly it was preferable to kill a field than to make use of a pretty much desolate area.  Now, that same desolate area is one of two routes towards the skip.  Anyone used to playing video games or watching zombie films will instantly recognise that the scene is one they've seen before, except these zombies who need shooting are shuffling and touting carrier bags.

At the checkouts, the till operator (a female whose previous 'work' experience consisted of dribbling at the thought of one day using some blunt-nosed scissors) was in a coma, but somehow able to shift things across the scanner. It's possible she was literally plugged-in.

Till Operator:  "Hiiiiiiii . . . . (listlessly delivered) . . . did you get everything you want?
Mrs MWSC:  "Actually, no I didn't."
Till Operator:  "Oooh/Aaah"  [Or some such spelling to note a weird noise being expelled from lungs]
The drippiness of the woman and pointlessness of her enquiry were noted by Mrs MWSC
Till Operator:  "Have you been here before?"
Mrs MWSC:  "Yes."
Till Operator:  "Oooh/Aaah"  [As above but amazingly with less enthusiasm - yes, that was sadly possible!]
Till Operator:  "It's busy isn't it?"
Mrs MWSC decided this needed no answer/comment, although she considered a head butt.

Upon her return, Mrs MWSC 'unloaded' the shopping - one carrier bag. Alcohol was called for.

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