My ideal outcome would have been to acquire a few sheets, probably rolled up, of A1 size, and I was expecting to pay a pound or so for each. This objective seemed reasonable on Saturday morning, but it was short lived aspiration.
The stationery on offer in the bargain shops included nothing at all with squares on, of any size. I was not too surprised, and deflected any mild disappointment based on going to the shop that sells books, art supplies and other assorted stuff. Here, I found canvasses, loads of art-related items and paper of every type except 'graph'. I was annoyed at the discrimination exercised by the procurement people associated with The Works. I went over to WH Smith and expected a result; the only concern I had was what size graph paper I might be able to obtain.
The wankers had fuck all! Historically famed for its stationery, Smiths has let itself go badly. The cunts hadn't even an A4 pad of the stuff! I was stumped, and had not realised that the commodity was so difficult to come by. I rather suspect that obtaining cannabis is easier than getting hold of graph paper.
On Tuesday, I was in the vicinity of a retail park where I'd previously found a Staples store. With a sense of confidence, I drove there to find Office Outlet where the Staples used to be. "Oh well," I thought to myself, "that'll do." This hangar-sized building would surely provide me with some squared paper.
Inside, I aimed for the area that looked promising, and found an area that denied any cunting promise at all. I was the only customer in the shop, and I piqued the curiosity of a woman who was cleaning a display of something no one could possibly want. She asked if she could help and after mentioning graph paper, a concerned look stretched her features unattractively. I followed as she decided to lead me back to the front desk, where the other two staff members were achieving very little. After a rummage in a metal bin holding tubes of wrapping paper, she checked with one of the other women, along the lines of: "didn't we have some graph paper in this bin?" Apparently it had not all gone, as two rather crumpled tubes were located underneath a great bit fucking machine.
I was presented with two A2 sheets, each rolled in a thin polythene sleeve, bearing a barcode and a £1.50 price tag. I was not impressed, but in the circumstances had very little choice. I mentioned I was hoping for a larger size, and the first of the staff suggested I might try Hobbycraft. So with all the frustration of a clitless cunt, I produced the three pounds, and left the store, deciding that obtaining these two sheets would serve as a back-up.
Hobbycraft was one of the large stores on the retail park, and I pulled up outside just two minutes later. Inside, there was 18.5 tonnes of complete shit, and zero ounces of paper marked with squares. This was simply ten minutes wasted. The Hobbycunts had decided there was no call for graph paper.
Never could I have envisaged such difficulty in locating graph paper.
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