Security Podium No. 2
(Based on a True Story)
(i)
I gave an after-dinner speech
at The Lovemaking Rooms, Nantwich.
I collected my fee
~ eight pounds 50p ~
and went shopping
in an adjacent
less-than-supermarket.
(ii)
It was my turn to make supper for the lads - Dale Winton, The Most Reverend and Right Honourable John Sentamu (Archbish of York), Keith Harris and Cuddles the Monkey. What would it be? Salmon & dill fishcakes on a fragrant bed of Brillo Pads?
I was comparing the salt content of rival brands of noodle snax, when I was accosted by a dishevelled-looking fellow with a faraway look in his eye and a nearby look in his other eye. He interrupted my noodling and asked, in a voice that sounded like it was being beamed from another cosmos:
How do you do this?
He made a sweeping gesture with a claw-like hand, taking in the shelves, the chest freezers, the bored-to-death supermarketeers and the other customers, dejectedly pushing their trolleys around in last season's sweatpants.
What, shopping? I answered with a question of my own. (So annoying!) He nodded. It was an awkward moment. His head looked a little shoogly, like at any moment it might come loose at its moorings and roll off down one of the aisles. I pressed on hurriedly and explained the system - how it was customary to put what one wanted in a basket, take it to the till and pay for it. He looked unconvinced. He didn't thank me, but that was fine. We went our separate ways.
I finished my shopping. They didn't have everything I wanted. Couscous was evidently a bit too exotic for this parish so I got cat litter instead. With a little luck my lovely lads wouldn't notice the difference.
Sixty seven seconds after I left the store, I heard a hullabaloo behind me. As I was turning around to see what the blue blazes the matter could be, my virgin shopper shot past me, carrying a basket full of 750 ml bottles and many cans of a beverage brewed "by appointment to the Royal Danish Court", with a security guard in hot pursuit. Well, I say "hot" pursuit... it was more like lukewarm pursuit... I don't know if some of the novelty and excitement of being a security guard had worn off or maybe he wasn't being paid enough, but he didn't seem to be trying too hard to chase his man down. He certainly hadn't made any ground on his quarry as they disappeared out of view.
I fell into a reverie. Maybe I hadn't been clear enough in explaining the rudiments of shopping? Or maybe he was a hapless extra-terrestrial being?
(iii)
I proceeded to the chip shop
and bought two scallop cobs
and a bottle of Panda Pops.
B.R. 09/03/2018
(i)
I gave an after-dinner speech
at The Lovemaking Rooms, Nantwich.
I collected my fee
~ eight pounds 50p ~
and went shopping
in an adjacent
less-than-supermarket.
(ii)
It was my turn to make supper for the lads - Dale Winton, The Most Reverend and Right Honourable John Sentamu (Archbish of York), Keith Harris and Cuddles the Monkey. What would it be? Salmon & dill fishcakes on a fragrant bed of Brillo Pads?
I was comparing the salt content of rival brands of noodle snax, when I was accosted by a dishevelled-looking fellow with a faraway look in his eye and a nearby look in his other eye. He interrupted my noodling and asked, in a voice that sounded like it was being beamed from another cosmos:
How do you do this?
He made a sweeping gesture with a claw-like hand, taking in the shelves, the chest freezers, the bored-to-death supermarketeers and the other customers, dejectedly pushing their trolleys around in last season's sweatpants.
What, shopping? I answered with a question of my own. (So annoying!) He nodded. It was an awkward moment. His head looked a little shoogly, like at any moment it might come loose at its moorings and roll off down one of the aisles. I pressed on hurriedly and explained the system - how it was customary to put what one wanted in a basket, take it to the till and pay for it. He looked unconvinced. He didn't thank me, but that was fine. We went our separate ways.
I finished my shopping. They didn't have everything I wanted. Couscous was evidently a bit too exotic for this parish so I got cat litter instead. With a little luck my lovely lads wouldn't notice the difference.
Sixty seven seconds after I left the store, I heard a hullabaloo behind me. As I was turning around to see what the blue blazes the matter could be, my virgin shopper shot past me, carrying a basket full of 750 ml bottles and many cans of a beverage brewed "by appointment to the Royal Danish Court", with a security guard in hot pursuit. Well, I say "hot" pursuit... it was more like lukewarm pursuit... I don't know if some of the novelty and excitement of being a security guard had worn off or maybe he wasn't being paid enough, but he didn't seem to be trying too hard to chase his man down. He certainly hadn't made any ground on his quarry as they disappeared out of view.
I fell into a reverie. Maybe I hadn't been clear enough in explaining the rudiments of shopping? Or maybe he was a hapless extra-terrestrial being?
(iii)
I proceeded to the chip shop
and bought two scallop cobs
and a bottle of Panda Pops.
B.R. 09/03/2018
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