19.1.19 Shopping in the UK

How can retailers defend their approaches to the public when their antics are so deplorable?  There are far too many examples of poor behaviour, conning people and offers that are simply not offers at all.

The Co-op

The Co-operative has a weird interpretation of what constitutes a 'Clearance' offer, and provides numerous and regular examples of stupidity.  The one shown here is for a fajita kit at the exact same price it is normally sold at.  The sticker is simply a wish on the Co-op's part to clear stuff for their own benefit.

B&Q

How the DIY store management decided that a two pence 'saving' from an alleged usual selling price of a ludicrous £1.02 was worth drawing our attention to, and the printing of a 'clearance' sign is beyond me, and any other sane person.  Pathetic indeed, B&Q.

Asda

This really is the mustard.  The 100g jar is £1.10, and next to it, Asda has decided that 170g is worth 85p, less than half the price, yet it's not actually "on offer".  Madness.

The Co-op

A recent sore throat caused me to consider buying something to ease the annoyance, and I looked at the options - and the prices of course.  I have never been much of a fan of Honey and Lemon, so I tend to gravitate to fruit flavours or menthol.  It was a massive revelation to see that a single fucking sweet is now 19 cunting pence!  The country has gone fucking mad.

Jacob's Club / McVitie's

The well-known chocolate biscuit does not give us quite as much chocolate on our biscuit as was once the case.  Further than that disappointment is the inability of the manufacturer to cover the fucking biscuit in a wrapper.  The cost-cutting shenanigans have extended so far that there is now insufficient foil paper to reach all the way around the biscuit, even allowing for the thinner layer of chocolate, and consequent reduction in girth!  The missing foil is hidden behind the outer coloured wrapper denoting the flavour.  What a poor show.

Asda's Pictoral Claim

Asda's Reality

It probably comes as no surprise to see these images, but that's no reason to excuse such blatant misrepresentation.

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19.1.19 The Voice UK

Sadly The Voice UK has degenerated massively, and the biggest factor is undoubtedly the fact that ITV airs the show.  When it was on BBC1, there was a sense that the important element in play was the voices of the fucking entrants.  These days, it's completely about the judges, their egos and their antics.  A poor show indeed for the people hoping for a chance to go somewhere (not that anyone winning the show ever actually gets anywhere).

I have tonight watched the programme at the behest of Mrs MWSC and so at 8:00pm it got underway.  I have just started typing, after having watched Olly Murs sing (as if we don't know what his fucking voice is like already) and a time-check reveals it is 8:50pm and we have seen just FOUR fucking people taking part!

It's not about 'The Voice', it's about the four judges, and adverts.  Three of the first four got through - should have been just two.  It's a painful experience watching this shit.

"I almost went then," said Tom Jones, after no one turned for a woman.  I wish he fucking had.

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13.1.19 Dancing On Ice Farce

The ITV schedules for last Sunday and today have taken the piss out of the viewers.  Two hours devoted on both days, for some ice skating by so-called 'celebrities'.  I am forced to use the inverted commas simply because there is no way some of the entrants should be referred to as celebrities.  What the cunting fuck about being on Love Island makes you a celebrity?

                                Musk Ox                      Gemma Collins

The format is a joke.  Six two minute dances for each show means twelve minutes of fucking dancing on ice.  With some allowance for the training VT and marking, then an hour would have been fine for the whole thing, each week.  But no, there was no such protection for us from the painful stretching out of the whole process.

Jason Gardner is a dick, of course, and Phil Schofield's best contributions were arguably in the voice-over for the We By Any Car adverts in the numerous/relentless commercial breaks.

What a painful four hours that all was.

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5.1.19 'Festive' As Ever

As usual, the 'peak' day for use of the term 'Festive' in the TV Guide was Christmas Eve.  This year, there has been no let up in the annoying use of the word, and after four years of reviewing the pathetic vocabulary of the creators of the TV Guide, I find that the serving up of this shit is consistent and relentless.

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21.10.18 New Asda Dire Approach

Can anything be simpler than paying for a basket of groceries and leaving a small store?  Well, based on the Asda approach in North Shields, just about anything can be simpler - and less frustrating.

My basket was not overflowing; in fact, 10 of the 15 items were small jars of spices, so this was hardly 'shop of the century'.  I weighed up the options; six self-serve terminals, a conveyor belt option (again self-serve) and the kiosk.  In view of my dislike of scanning things myself and dealing with argumentative technology, I thought my small basket could be handled by the chap at the cigarette kiosk.

My thinking was influenced not by any wish for special treatment, but by the shopper being attended to not actually purchasing any cigarettes.  The small woman was buying dog food; the male assistant had scanned some tins, and was just scanning her sack of dry dog food.  I considered that as no one else was waiting, certainly no desperate smokers, and as I had just a few easily handled items, I could benefit from old fashioned input from a till operator.

Just as I thought I might get some attention, the obliging chaps volunteered to carry the sack of dog food to the lady's car.  I was not put out unduly because at the same time, he asked his colleague to take over and attend to my needs.  This was the only other shop worker around, and she was standing two feet away.  I fully expected her to take position behind the till and help, as the bloke disappeared on haulage duties.

"Is it just this?" asked the woman?  She looked at the basket while uttering these pointless words of enquiry.  I avoided the urge to be sarcastic, and said "yes", in the hope that efficiency could be prevalent.  Alas, I was to be disappointed.  I later wondered whether my asking for some cigarettes might have given her an incentive to scan the fucking food.  I wondered whether her own approach to customer service differed from her colleague's views, and while he worked the till for anyone, she would only do so if cigarettes were involved.

"You'll have to scan the items yourself, over there," she said, pointing to the mosh pit.  With the man gone, the woman with her dog food gone, no other customers waiting at the till, and cunting fucking tumbleweed blowing through the depressing checkout area by the kiosk, I considered whether to abandon the basket in protest.  I highlighted that i dislike scanning things myself and I always run into problems, but she was deaf to this input.  Begrudgingly, I moved over to a large conveyor belt, and plonked my basket at the head, in preparation for scanning.  Over the course of the next two minutes, two things happened.

1 - a surge of customers suddenly swamped the checkout area, such that the six small self-scan tills were all in use, with other shoppers now queuing.
2 - my machine, es expected, decided to be a complete cunt and not scan properly.

The red light shone dimly and the assistance of equal dimness shuffled the five paces to me.  She'd already vacated the kiosk, and as the single representative of Asda's customer service force, she was available to help people.  Someone was waiting behind me for the conveyor, but nothing was moving.  The Asda woman corrected the machine, but two items later, the red light came on again.
The woman then scanned all my items for me while I watched and waited.  I suspect the irony was lost on her.  If she'd served me in a similar fashion at the kiosk, earlier, then the conveyor would have been free for other shoppers.

A laughable episode that swallowed a few minutes at lunch time.  The 'circus feel' to the transaction and the environment all around was weird.  As I left, I saw no sign of the bloke who'd left with the old lady and enough food for two weeks (for a dog).  I wondered if she'd kidnapped him and he was on his way to a kennel.

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21.10.18 Bacon Leaf @McDonald's

With some mild regret and a sense of disappointment, I was drawn to the 'golden arches' yesterday, for a necessary intake of food.  McDonald's is never really a sensible option, but occasionally there is little choice.  I succumbed to the touch screen trauma and opted for a meal based on what was described as McExtreme Bacon.  The picture seemed reasonably inviting, and I'd not had one of these burgers before. 

I think there needs to be an urgent rethink regarding what constitutes 'Extreme', because what was presented turned out to be rather less impressive than anyone could have imagined.  I recall commenting to Junior that the bacon served was so fucking thin that it was in fact "bacon leaf".  Yes, the stuff was that pathetically unsubstantial.  I am submitting the above picture as evidence - what a pathetic excuse for an Extreme Bacon burger. 

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6.10.18 Depression In Redcar

Today I spent just over two hours in Redcar.  I can best sum up the verdict as follows:

Redcar if fucking depressing, and it's on its arse.

I thought no more shops could possibly close down, but I was wrong - and the decline continues.  Even BrightHouse has downsized; it has relinquished its corner plot, and taken up residence in a tiny ex-Oxfam shop and dispensed with all the floor space such that it can now display little more than a fucking sofa.  When the shop specifically targeting poor people is forced to almost disappear, it tells you something about the economy and the area.

Perhaps rather more surprising than Redcar's general air of complete gloom and shabbiness was the utter fucking disgrace regarding the supermarket in the most prominent location.  I refer to Morrisons, and the disgrace was the scale of unavailability on the shelves.  I wondered whether a nuclear warning had been issued, or if Brexit plans had kicked in early.  Unbelievably, I had to queue for a fucking trolley before I could even enter the shop.  I was one of the lucky few who secured a small trolley from the supply of six that was pushed in by a worker after I'd hung around for a couple of minutes. 

Getting into the place was a cross between competing on Total Wipeout and Takeshi's Castle.  The gaps between the obstacles placed by management in the entrance area were like clogged arteries, as shoppers loitered like fat deposits. 

Empty containers in the fruit and veg area were matched by equally empty shelves in the surrounding area.  As I moved around the store, I became increasingly frustrated by the items I was unable to buy.  The apathy surrounding everything in Redcar was certainly depressing.

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