Finally, after years of believing that we all have hidden super powers deep within us I have discovered mine. It happened on my weekly shopping trip to the local super-duper-we want every last penny you’ve got-market. Honestly, I’m old enough to remember being dragged to the shops with my mum when I was a nipper when all I wanted to be doing was putting playing cards in the back wheel of my chopper or building a panny swing so ludicrously dangerous the cast of Jackass would be calling health and safety. A walk to the shops back then actually meant shops plural. There would be the butchers for that nights tea, which always seemed to involve mince or even worse, liver, eeugh. The paper from the newsagent, some veg from the greengrocers and a fresh loaf of bread from the baker, you might even get a cake if you had been good in every shop and agreed to carry a bag all the way home. Now though you can buy all that and beer, a new duvet, a picture frame a new telly or why not some insurance, house, car,pet, travel they do it all. So if your dog ever comes back from holiday and drives the Mondeo through the front door you are well covered. Anyway it was while I forced myself begrudgingly up and down the aisles, which by the way is easier said than done with the veritable assault course of staff and their bloody pallets of stock, old people who appear to be walking in invisibe treacle and the just plain thick, who always seem to be in the same aisle as me trying to read the ingredients of a six pack of andrex, that I discovered my hidden power. I have the ability to find, without even trying and with the minimum of fuss, which of the checkouts will move the slowest and eventually culminate in one of the following, someone with no money, this is actually the best of a bad bunch as at least the inconvenience is offset by their complete and utter embarrassment, someone who has forgotten their shampoo or ryvita or whatever and doesn’t consider holding you up to be unbelievable fucking rude, someone with no brain or worst of all somebody who has picked up the only item in a pile of six billion with no bloody price on it. You then have the double jeopardy of the wait for an assistant and then a wait for said assistant to go and find said item with a price on it. This can take anywhere from five minutes to what can feel like several lifetimes, by which time your potato waffles have melted into something more akin to an actual potato than they have any right to. Of course during the assistant’s hunt for the holy grail of some priced beans or whatever you may get a small glance of apology from the customer in front or even a verbal one. This is usually enough to prevent me from attempting to cave their head in with a french stick. Actually perhaps the fact I’ve never committed murder at he checkout is my true power, whatever it is, be sure that if you see me queueing it’ll be quicker in the one right next to me.
