Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

pavement behaviour

I bowed to pressure and panic last Saturday and started my Christmas shopping.

Due to the presence of roughly 70,000 rugby fans in the city centre (let's not talk about that match... it's just too painful...) Imp and I adjusted our plans and headed merrily into Barry.

Note: Barry is a place, not a fat old man with a prickly chin and yellow teeth. Glad we've cleared that up.

Let's face it, shopping is bad enough without the added volume of bodies due to the inevitability of Christmas. Add on top of that another 70,000 people, all with painted faces and stinking of Carlsburg, cramming into the same record shops and you have a recipe for Extreme Grumpiness on my part.

I'm not good at shopping.
I have a set of pavement rules in my head, but no one seems to abide by them.

But just in case you're interested, here they are:

1. You should never stop walking unexpectedly.

There's nothing that drives me into a frenzy of pissed-off facial expressions more than people who come to a halt suddenly, without any kind of gradual slowing down and general I'm-going-to-stop-soon clues.
It's rude and pervy. If I had a pound for every fat, unattractive stranger I've inadvertently embraced (Ugh) or bounced off their large, polyester-clad arses, I'd be a rich woman.
*Well, I'd have about erm... £20.

2. You should always walk at a consistent, reasonably brisk speed while on the outside of the pavement or in the middle of the pedestrianised area.

Window-shopping is for the side nearest the windows. Blatent dawdling should be outlawed and punished by death or removal of the feet at the ankles. Some of us know where we want to go and WANT TO GET THERE, GRANDAD.

3. Don't smoke.

No one wants to breathe your smoke, idiot. Shopping is hard enough as it is without either having an asthma attack and/or getting home smelling like you've been clubbing all afternoon.
Added to that is the fact that we are milling around like a cross between sheep and battery chickens and I don't want blim-burns on my arse. Got that? Neither would I want my kids' eyes cauterised, should I be unlucky enough to have reproduced sometime previous to this shopping trip.

4. Never carry an umbrella.

These are lethal weapons. I've noticed that as a general rule, people who carry umbrellas also have an IQ around that of a lump of Blu Tack and leave a trail of people in their wake, clutching at their gouged eyeballs, bleeding profusely over their freshly roasted chestnuts.
An eye for an eye, I say.

5. Don't stand around chatting.

Especially near shop displays, doorways or cash tills.
This is inconsiderate and a total pain in the arse. I suggest that if you are going to be bloody sociable, go and find a narrow alley somewhere and squeeze between the stack of boxes and piles of half rotten fruit, out of the way. Better still, don't talk to anyone and get on with your shopping. That way you'll be finished quicker and out of the pigging way.

I'm going to be braving Cardiff City Centre this Saturday.
So can I suggest that if you were planning on heading this way and being frivelous... that you DON'T. Or if you insist on taking your life in your hands, keep an eye open for a wild-eyed, pissed-off looking dyke with clenched fists and a furious look on her face... and leg it in the other direction, 'cos I'm not taking any messing.


  • At November 11, 2005 3:39 pm, Blogger Sniffy said…

    Yes, and how's about don't walk four or five abreast and block the entire width of the fucking pavement or walkway and force me to dodge out your way instead of showing a bit of consideration and stepping aside you fucking bastards!

    And what about, don't park your fucking motorised scooter in a shop doorway and don't congregate and block the fuckign aisles with your bloody huge prams, you complete fucktards!


    When do I get my taser?

  • At November 11, 2005 5:16 pm, Blogger funny thing said…


    Sounds like you have a *few issues* to work through. (pot/kettle/dark grey.)
    Feel free to pay me £70/hr and nip on a train to come and talk about it.

    I've bought myself a caveman-style club in readiness for tomorrow. You know, the one that looks like a baseball bat but has spikes poking out the end.
    Gonna go and have me some fun in WHSmith....

  • At November 11, 2005 6:27 pm, Blogger Sniffy said…

    It's the bastards near Primark, Shuh, and New Look you need to be most careful off. Bunch of friggin fucktards.


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