A queue to a kill

Standing waiting in Sainsburys this evening I can quite understand why people occasionally go crazy ape batshit and want to kill as many of their fellow human beings as possible.

Every now and then you really do pick the wrong till.

Tonight we had Mr Pissed-out-of-his-head, probaby on cheap cider, rumaging through his carrier bag to give back the half bottle of own-brand gutrot scotch because he hadn’t got enough money.

As if he wasn’t enough of a life-thief there was the simpering numpty and his girlfriend. He had stood there for a full five minutes fondling that box of battered cod fillets only to decide, just when the till tart has started ringing his stuff up, that he didn’t want the battered cod fillets in the blue box, he wanted the battered cod fillets in the red box!

It’s been a long day …