Thursday, 23 July 2015

I've No Oojah to Put Me Doings In

Her Indoors went to the dentist this morning. She doesn’t mind that. It’s the one place where’s she’s told to open her mouth. Anyway, she asked me to see to the weekly shop at the supermarket.
They say there’s no such thing as a victimless crime, and they’re right. Any shop claiming that twelve sausages are ‘great value’ at £2.00 is guilty of misrepresentation and daylight robbery and should rightly be prosecuted.
In an effort to keep an eye on the bill, I’ve taken to shop and scan. It’s dead easy. You pick up your little ray gun and wander round the shop scanning the barcodes, and it adds up your bill. That way you can weep as you go round rather than bursting into tears at the checkout.
Naturally, you have to be careful where you aim it. I have a bad enough reputation as it is without taking home a slinky nighty which would never have suited my hairy chest.
The scanner doings is quite bulky, but with malice aforethought, making certain you don’t get out of it that easily, the shop has designed some of its trolleys, with a little oojah on the handle where you can put your doings.

Trouble is, my brain was coasting when I got to the shop, and I chose one of the other trolleys. I didn’t notice until I was half way round the shop, but I had no oojah to put me doings in.

I ended up carrying it in my pocket and like a fool, I never checked the bill, only the final amount. Judging from that, I think I must have accidentally scanned the serial numbers on a couple of tenners.

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