Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Why the way people finger bread proves why the fight against global warming can never be won.

Head in the sand, bread in the hand. That's what it's all about. People don't understand the knock on effect that their actions have. They've never seen one of those time-travel films where you stop Abraham Lincoln from being killed and end up 200 years later with Ron Jeremy as president. Still, worse things could happen - but that's not the point - people can't see the consequences of their actions - they think it's just liddle ole them doin what they're doin - they aint gonna affect nothin - all their doin is havin a little poke at a few croissants, maybe pickin up a pain au chocolat n havin a little sniff:

"Feels a bit squdgy. Do you think they're fresh? Like cooked today?"
"Dunno, pass us one of those shortbread cookie things n I'll give it a sniff. Do one will notice if I have a little bite, do yeh reckon?"
She passes it to him; he has a delicate nibble n ponders.
She asks him, "How is it?"
"Bit sweet. I normally like white chocolate shortbread with fudge squares n smarties, but this one is a bit sweet."
"Put it back then."
"Think I fancy savoury," he says now. She starts pokin again:
"These onion bagels feel a bit hard."

Then they stop cos the Tesco bread monitor has come to fill up some gaps in the shelves. More multigrain rolls are needed etc.

I am watching: frozen, unable to move. They assume (if they care at all) that I am ponderin on my forthcoming bread product purchases - instead I am starin at them and wondering if I could possibly get my phone out and film them - knowing that if I did the quality would be too utterly terrible.

It's like watching one of those Channel 5 documentaries that you watch but simultaneously feel shame and horror at actually being in the same room as the onscreen goings on.

They're lovely looking people and everything, they're not urchins from the Victorian era; they're not wearing woolly Aztec hats and their shellpants tucked into their socks. She's wearing a mustard yellow coat and an excess of hairspray; he's wearing a young man's beard and a scarf tied like a fashionable garotte.

The silent Tesco bread man starts dishing out more bread products onto the shelves. Shoals of identical, perfectly risen rolls clumping into the shelf from his tray. He is wearing a clear plastic bag over his right hand - vaguely perched over his right hand. But he's made an effort right? ('All that elf n safety? Bit of dirt never hurt no one...') His left hand is just a left hand. He uses this uncovered left hand to push the bread rolls into a more uniform scattering; removing unsightly clumps of bread until they are as neat as beans on toast.

By now Mustard Coat Lady & Garote Scarf Man have decided what they want: sticky almond plaits. She uses the tongs to pick out their bread choices.

"By the way," I whisper to Garote Man, "that fellow there. The Tesco fella up to his wrists in granary rolls - he's got monkey AIDs version 2.0 - the new, really bad one, y'know, you must of heard of it? - and he's been fingerin every one of those rolls n he licked a few of the sticky buns as well. Takin a chance there you are."

I walk away feeling very pleased with myself. I have a good mind to write a letter to Mr Tesco, the head of the Tesco family, but he wouldn't want to listen. I've a good mind to return to the shop tomorrow after I've splashed my winkle juice all over my sweaty palms and fondle every blinkin bread product in the shop. Instead I buy some hermetically sealed pitta breads and leave.

And that is why people will never face up to global warming and all that stuff:
  • Everyone wants lots of products to choose from
  • You have to pack everything in plastic because people are stupid and like poking things
  • People prefer to ignore the consequences of their actions - or are too stupid to even realise that their individual actions add up
Yeah, well, it makes sense to me. Urban Peasants. And that bread looked so nice, if I'd only arrived in the shop 5 minutes later I would have definitely definitely bought a load. And it probably wouldn't have done me no harm. What you don't know, don't hurt you. Especially if it is a bap full of Monkey AIDs version 2.0...

Some bread being 'seriously' fingered:


  1. Woah woah woah - you were in TESCO?

  2. Errr, yeah? I got confused by hunger. I had been having an argument with the manager of a shop called 'All Saints' - they seemed to sell Old fashioned sewing machines (or at least the window was full of em) but they wouldn't actually sell me one. It was most vexating. So I went into Tesco to punch and bruise some fruit and shoplift some Somerset brie.

  3. They need an "old-fashioned sewing machines not for sale" sign. (Then you get to go in and ask for the sign, etc and so forth.)