I'm not one to usually take much notice of what's going on around me when I'm inside the supermarket as a rule.
I'm usually one of those 'in and out wallahs' (what a Shame, I've already used that Clash line of 'All lost in the supermarket etc. etc. as a header before) , Except when being a Gentleman and getting things off the top shelf for old ladies (who are, for the most part, in reality taller than me even, despite their wizened appearances) but what I saw last Wednesday surprised me,
PHOTO-"YOUR MUM". C'MON, YOU DIDN'T EXPECT ANYTHING ELSE DID YOU?
and I've only ever been 'shocked' when being an idiot by touching live electrical wires (strange situation electrocution, you know time is passing around you, yet you feel stuck in that horribly feeling moment).
It was as I was doing my usual meandering around Tesco's on Wednesday, when I saw that the shop was selling not only the usual non nutritional foodstuffs (either rubbish, crap plastic, plastic crap or just plain bad taste items) for Halloween.
"What's the big deal" I hear you ask, and to that I would have to answer "not much I 'spose, except that they are selling the Pumpkin heads and rubber Bats alongside the decorations for this years Christmas, and that was next to the bumpf for Bonfire night. Which as well as being premature (that's 'early' to you dimwit) by months, upsets the green rinse brigade and their knuckle dragging EDL loving grand kids who resent the vulgar trappings an crass commercial trappings of Christmas. And we haven't even celebrated the annual ritual burning of the treasonous Catholics yet, we still had the hunt for decent fireworks and the chance to scoff at the badly 'dad' made guy's to laugh at yet. The 'credit crunch must be hitting Tesco hard this year what with their decision to hold all the festivities at the same time, in the same place.
Tickets for the 'Tesco Haj experience' are expected to go on sale within weeks, see your local branch for details (tickets for the trip are worth five clubcard points).
The upcoming Christmas decorations have, like Sainsburys, been growing over the shop like a fungus, squeezing out the other festivities as they come to pass, until November the sixth when they shall be revealed in all their gaudy glory and the shop's staff members will be forced (upon pain of wage or overtime loss) to don special forced happiness looking, nylon Santa's little helper suits that make even the cleanest staff member stink of stale sweat within the space of two hours of shelf filling, while being forced to wear the most painful 'happy' expressions all day.
Truly the season of joy is amongst us.
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