Can there be any supermarket worse than ASDA? This is a rhetorical question because of course there is no establishment that is as annoying or useless. I suppose to some small degree my views are shaped through having a relatively small store closest to my house. 'Small' is a relative term, because the footprint of this blot on the landscape is rather large - enough to have decimated the green field that was minding its own business before the planners came along and acted like cunts.
"Build it and they will come" is the line from Field Of Dreams, and in similar style, the cunts-in-charge adopted this approach in the belief that shoppers would swarm to the stadium of mayhem. They were right; from far and wide, people flock to be fucked. The lies about pricing have spread to thousands of people in a catchment area that denies them any real alternative. The Cunt-op may well have improved its pricing policy, but you will still be hard pressed to find more than a handful of things you can buy without being truly ripped off.
After just about three years of the green monster having devoured a pristine coastal field and offered us a sweeping social downgrade, there is work underway to add to Asda's assault on the landscape. The "Build it and they will come" line may well apply to shoppers, but the mantra also applies to other retailers. Like flies around shit, the hangers-on are now mobilised, aided and abetted by the cunts at the council who have decided that more green fields can be decimated. Why? Because apparently we are in need of yet another fucking McDonald's and all the accompanying litter. On the opposite side of the inadequate mini roundabout is a massive shell that will house three or four more retail outlets. The diggers have dug, the brickies have laid their shit, and the mud has taken over. From the site office (two shipping containers) the CIC are no doubt happy to look out and be smug. The vandalism is half-way completed. Soon, the others (a Marston's pub, B&M, Aldi and more) will join in the obscenity.
Asda's own exploits are best described as a corporate con. There are hundreds of red and white signs shouting "Rollback". Yes, everywhere I look, I see flagrant disregard for any retail honesty or integrity. Rather, I see manipulation and lies on most tickets and pricing displays, complementing well the actual products, whose sizes and weights have been tweaked insidiously by manufacturers. Thus, it is more like "Two rolls forward and one rollback".
I entered the store three weeks ago to a display of Sprite, bring sold at £1 under the 'Rollback' bollocks. The Cunts In Charge had raised the price from £1 to £1.85 per 2-litre bottle two weeks earlier, for absolutely no reason. The stock markets had not been jittered into raising world prices for this commodity; there was no scarcity that could have any way suggested a need to introduce an 85% price increase. Then, two weeks later, I am supposed to be impressed that Asda has put the price back down to a level where I could again buy the fucking stuff instead of boycotting it!
There IS NO ROLLBACK! Peperami packs fluctuate between £1 and £2.50. Pot of Joy four-packs fluctuate between £1 and £2.40. Summer Fruits High Juice is up to £1.20 after a year at £1. Was the 20% hike related to the product's withdrawal for three weeks, and reappearance with a new label design and screw cap? I hope not because the plastic top is now of a worse design and it is more fiddly to line up the thread than the perfectly functioning previous darker green cap. Last week, the Hot 'n' Spicy Chicken Breasts went from £1 to £1.50 for no reason. This is not the only issue with chicken at Asda.
Yesterday, I went to get chicken wings, and some salad. There were chicken goujons, chicken breasts, chicken legs, chicken thighs, and of course chickens. Now, I know chickens don't fly, but I believe that anatomically, they still have cunting wings, and Charles Darwin suggested change over thousands of years, not fucking overnight! Not a cunting wing in the cunting shop! Not even a bag of them in the freezer.
Two weeks ago I was forced to use the self service area for a box of beer. There were only two normal checkouts in use, both of them oversubscribed. I could not face a long wait for one item, and the days of an manned express checkout for up to 9 items have long since ended. With trepidation I approached the zone . . . . no fucker to hand in an Asda uniform. I of course pressed to confirm that I had no need of a bag - as if a fucking twat-of-a-5p-bag would be any good for 20 cans in a box! I scanned and waited, instantly angry that I was now in the limbo stage of retail. This is where I want to buy something that I have selected, I have the money and simply wish to proceed . . . BUT . . . I am not allowed to do so because I need 'clearance'. I stood in limbo, awaiting input. I had been instructed to do so my the machine, and the voice command that told me what was going on.
"Please wait for assistance; a colleague is on their way".
This was more cunting infuriating than the system that denies purchase of some fucking cans. How the cunting fuck does a machine have a colleague? The only part-acceptable explanation would be a robot that might assist me further. The petrol pumps have stickers suggesting that a colleague might be able to assist, so inanimate "colleagues" are apparently working at Asda. More severe was my annoyance at the abuse of the English language. A colleague . . THEIR way . . fucking disgraceful!
A young chap appeared and with some sort of weird flourish, attended to the machine, allowing me to spend fucking money. "There you go," he said, as though he had achieved something in life. I decided not to thank him for his divine intervention; that would mean Asda inconveniencing me so that I could then be grateful for the inconvenience being removed. "Bring back the CONVENIENCE" I say . . . . . fuck the Rollback Bollocks.
A few days later I had shopping that was in a trolley, and I spied a checkout with just one person 'on the belt' (not literally). I loaded my stuff behind the remaining items of the customer in front, but I soon regretted this. There was an issue with an item of clothing. The wait for an "override" as excruciating. Finally, a waddling cunt in a "Happy To Help" sleeveless yellow vest arrived, jangling like a Prisoner Cell Block H guard, unhappy as fuck to deal with 'scan-gate'. Without any checks, she stuck a key in the till and tapped a few numbers, muttered something, and prepared to fuck off. I toyed with the idea of ramming the unwanted hanger up the arse of the twat with the keys (or should that be up the twat of the arse with the keys?). The ignorance was astounding, and she was in a world of her own. What is the point of giving a twat at the far end of the store a key, and then having her eventually perform an override without any checks? The checkout woman may as well keep the cunting key in her own pocket!
Field of Dreams? No, more like Normal Asda Nightmares next to a Field of Mud.
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