I thought I was being clever when I visited my local supermarket at midnight on Friday. With snowy weather forecast, everyone in the entire country was hitting the supermarket during the daylight hours to pack their house, garage and garden shed full of bread, milk and carpet shampoo. So, to compensate for this, and to ensure that I didn’t go without clean carpets, I decided to make a quick stop to my local Tesco on my way back from a night out on Friday. It was shrewd thinking – the supermarket would be empty and I could get in and out of the store really quickly. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, tiredness and hunger meant my decisions were slightly skewed. I managed to buy Easter eggs for the entire street, enough cereal to feed a small African village, 24 bags of of cat litter (I have no cat) and 15 boxes of tampons thanks to a special offer that I just couldn’t find the energy to turn down. So, ladies, if it’s that time of the month, you’ve got a cat with mild bladder weakness and you like cereal, mine’s the place to be…

Note: Please let me vacate my flat before you arrive, as I can’t bear to argue with you over which Easter egg you want most…

I took my four-year-old son to a local fair at the weekend (it was more for my enjoyment than his!!). After going mad on the dodgems and spending vast sums of money on pointless games involving guns, sticks and ball pits, we arrived at the ‘hook a duck’ game. You’ve seen the game before, I’m sure. It has a simple premise: take a long stick with a hook on the end, hold it over the ‘pond’ of plastic ducks (without accidentally hooking the wig of the stall owner) and pick up a duck.

Now, I was realistic about our chances. Although the sign said “prize every time,” I wasn’t expecting that we’d end up winning a speedboat. No, I’d have been quite happy with a giant cake in the shape of a ferris wheel or a year’s supply of toilet rolls…

So, what did my son win? Well, he had the opportunity to choose a prize from around the edge of the duck pond and he chose, perhaps unsurprisingly, a big, plastic gun.

As I inspected the gun that we had won (see how I’ve changed my son’s victory to become “ours”!), I was pleased to note that warnings signs were clearly marked on the packaging. For example, there was this warning…

And I was thrilled to discover that the gun was very energy efficient, simply working off a mixture of flour, egg and milk…

I’m pleased to be able to report that the gun DOES fire in a straight line…

I went out for dinner with two friends (a couple) last night. During the evening, there were a couple of classic comments made. So, I’ve decided to feature them as part of a new ‘Chasing a Noodle’ category called ‘Quote Of The Day’.

Second quote:
Woman: “I don’t do posh, but I did once sleep with a guy who had a job…”

Most amusing! Thanks to Jerome and Jo for providing much entertainment!

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away… but then I ate baked beans for lunch and the day started to turn. To start off with, I got chronic wind. Now, I won’t bore you with the details. But, let’s just say that you know you’ve had too many beans when you manage to whistle 3 verses of Good King Wenceslas in one go… from the wrong end. Not a good end to lunchtime.

After eating lunch, I visited the bank to withdraw some money from the cash machine. As I did so, I noticed a notice on the machine: “This machine may dispense 5 pound notes.” It seemed strangely vague to me. I mean, surely it MAY also dispense ten, twenty or fifty pound notes? Equally, it may not. Perhaps the notice is warning us that the machine is temperamental? Maybe it depends on the time of the month (a female ATM) or whether it likes the look of you. Do you think it sits there grumbling away to itself: “the little shit – he comes to me asking for 200 pounds. Right, let’s see his face when I give it to him in fivers…”?

That temperamental nature was also in evidence when I went to leave the bank. I had withdrawn money from the machine (in fivers) and put my wallet back into my pocket. I looked towards the bank door – it was open, inviting me to venture back out into the chilly cold. I walked across the floor towards the door and got within a metre of it before it closed infront of me. I grappled with it, pulling it open. As I squeezed out of the other side, it decided to open automatically again. I looked behind me, in disbelief. As I was doing this, another lady went to walk into the bank through the open door and it promptly slammed shut in her face, pushing her all the way back out again. She didn’t look happy. I, on the other hand, found it hysterically funny.

Later in the day came a final, bizarre, twist to my weird day. After completing my tasks and work in town, I made my way over to my Mother’s flat for dinner. We sat down to eat our meal in the lounge – cue a strange situation. I find there’s something slightly disturbing about eating dinner with your Mother whilst pandas urinate & shag on the television in the background.

Let’s analyse this for a minute. What does one do in that situation? Well, the way I saw it, there were three choices:

1. Tell her not to let pandas into her flat in future – especially not at dinner time
2. Ignore the television, increase the conversation level and hope that she doesn’t notice the pandas humping against the tree… and in the shelter… and by the water…
3. Quickly find the remote control and switch the television off… by which point she will definitely have noticed the content, leaving me to make a slightly embarrassed comment about why I switched it off.

I went for option 2…. it was the wrong option. The pandas urinated and humped their way through the next 20 minutes of TV time. Clearly, it was panda mating season and the male had been taking a daily dose of viagra with his bamboo. I’ve never talked so much and so loudly in my whole life!

Yesterday – what a day!

Last night, I visited my local store on a late-evening mission of some urgency. I’m sure that most of you reading this have been in a similar situation before.

As I strolled through the front door of the store, it became all too obvious that it was nearing closing time. Why? Well, the shopkeeper looked positively suicidal and the only items left on the shelves were a salad labelled with yesterday’s date and a half-eaten doughnut. If I hadn’t known better, I could have easily assumed that the townsfolk had entered into Emergency British Panic Buying Mode – an event that normally occurs when weather forecasters predict a flake of snow to fall somewhere within 100 miles.

So, why was I venturing out in the middle of the night? Well, I had experienced the ultimate nightmare. No, I’m not talking about waking up in bed, with a heavy hangover, lying naked next to your best friend’s grandmother (don’t pretend you’ve never had that dream!!). I was running low on toilet paper.

Cutting straight to the chase, I managed to find the aisle with the toilet paper. Good news awaited me – the brand of toilet roll that I normally buy was on special offer – hooray! Cue a quick dance and spin on the spot to celebrate. My glee didn’t last long, however, as there was a sting in the tail. They had sold out of every colour… except “Blossom Pink.” So, standing there, perplexed, scratching my head in deliberation and feeling increasingly desperate for the toilet, I had to mull over the following two options in my mind. Should I:

a) Buy the blossom pink toilet paper and risk the jibes of friends when they come over. So, what would my mates think about my very feminine, pink toilet roll – surely it’s a given that they’ll take the piss (pun intended)? More importantly; as a single man, what impression would the blossom pink toilet roll give to any ladies when I invite them over for dinner and they visit the bathroom?

b) Opt for the more expensive, alternative brand of super-quilted, quadruple velvet, gold-lined ‘bog roll’ (available in manly colours such as ‘duck tape grey’, ‘camouflage green’ or ‘gun barrel beige’).

Which option did I choose? Option a). No wonder the shopkeeper had a big smile on his face as I walked back out of the door…

I spent Saturday evening in the company of friends (plus others) at their house, which they share with their two children of ages three and five years. Alcohol was present (that’s not the name of one of the children) and, inevitably when people get slightly tipsy, one person had a rather childish moment…. and it was me who had that moment (why aren’t you surprised?). Well, life’s too miserable to be short… or something like that.

Having consumed a couple of drinks, I spotted a collection of plastic magnetic letters stuck to the fridge. I felt sorry for them – all jumbled up in no particular order (or possibly spelling something out in Greek) and longing, with unfulfilled ambition, to become part of a glorious word from our wonderful English language. I felt their pain (though that could have been indigestion from the sausage rolls and sandwiches). So, to appease them, I strolled over and spelled out the first word that came into my head from my extensive and colossal vocabulary…

Walking slowly back to my chair, I felt happier. But I still believed, inside, that I could do better…

There were a lot of letters remaining on the fridge; sulking and hoping against hope for a second chance. So, I pulled myself together for one last mission; to construct a phrase that would live long in the memory of the children… a message that they would one day pass on to their children…

I strode back to my seat feeling very happy and proud of myself. Mind due, the fridge was pointing out that some of that sentiment could have been due to the alcohol…

I’m sure that the faces of the children next morning would truly have been a sight to behold!

I recently wrote a blog article called Make Your Supermarket Trip Fun. Since then, life has gone a bit mad with work and a flat move. However, today I’m back and I’m…. writing about supermarkets again. I don’t live in a supermarket, believe me (but, if I did, I’d pitch my tent in the bakery aisle).

I was queueing at a supermarket checkout yesterday. Everyone was being so polite – standing in a straight line, not saying what they were thinking (“what the hell is he buying shampoo for – he’s bald?”). It got me thinking: I wonder if there are any articles on supermarket etiquette. It turns out that there are. Here’s one written for WikiHow.

However, it’s very boring, so here’s:

Alastair’s Alternative Supermarket Checkout Etiquette

1. Fill up a basket with as many individual items as you possibly can – stack them high and make sure you include a watermelon and a baguette (more on that in a minute). Then, making it obvious that you’re struggling to carry the heavy weight, head to the ‘basket only’ aisle. Whilst standing in the queue attracting everyone’s attention, keep muttering the words “I’m sure I’ve forgotten something….” Next, start counting your items loudly, but keep forgetting what number you got to and start again.

2. As you stand in the queue, comment on the shopping of the person behind you. Draw particular attention to anything that could possibly be embarrassing and talk in a loud voice. “Ah, I see you’re buying a cucumber…. so, you don’t have a fella in your life at the moment then….”

3. When you get to the stage where there is one person infront of you, grab the watermelon from your basket and hurl it down the conveyor belt towards the other end. As it hits the customer’s shopping pile, and scatters their items in all directions, yell out the word “STRIKE!” and do a little celebration dance.

4. Once the person infront has collected their goods (from the conveyor belt, the floor and the trolleys of various passers-by) and the conveyor belt is completely empty, seize your opportunity. Lay down on the conveyor belt (front first) and belly-surf your way down to the far end with your arms out (tip: ensure you haven’t put any shopping on the conveyor belt first).

5. As you talk to the cashier, change accents frequently and see if they notice. Start British, then move to American, Italian, Australian, French and finish with Welsh (as they always come last ).

6. When asked if you require assistance with packing your shopping, say “yes.” When the assistant arrives and begins to help you pack, repeatedly beat them over the head with the baguette and shout “come on – FASTER!!”

7. Help the cashier out. As they are scanning your items, lean over and start tapping the keys on their keypad. When asked what you are doing, tell them that you’re trying to solve a complex logarithmic equation that will safeguard the future of humanity. To help them further, make the beeping sound yourself as they scan items in (and vary the pitch).

8. When it comes to paying, pull a huge bag of pennies out of your pocket and begin to count them out, one by one. As you’re counting, forget where you got to and start again. Attempt to enlist the help of passers by, and the employee helping you pack, in counting your money and offer to pay them 10 pence each for their trouble. Increase the offer in 1 pence amounts until they agree, then pull out a contract form for them to fill in and sign.

Do you find yourself feeling bored, frustrated and disillusioned when you undertake your regular supermarket shopping expedition? It’s time to change all that!

Here’s a few challenges and ideas to make it more interesting for you and your fellow shoppers…

Challenge 1 – Don’t Shop From The Shelves

Pick yourself a trolley (try to get one that doesn’t have a wonky wheel) and enter the store. Now, before you grab for that 2-for-1 cake offer, stop. For this challenge, you’re only allowed to shop from other people’s trolleys. That’s right – you’re not allowed to put anything in your trolley that comes directly off the supermarket shelf.

I know what you’re thinking – that’s surely a bit cruel to the person you’re taking from? To help you get over the guilt, you’re allowed to replace the item you take with another similar-sized item from a supermarket shelf. Here’s an example:

You see an 85 year-old lady walking around and you spot that she has a jar of your favourite jam in her trolley. Whilst she is inspecting the tubes of Denture Cream, you creep up, take the jam and replace it with a box of PleasureMax Condoms. Problem solved – no guilt for you.

Challenge 2 – Fancy Dress

When you go shopping for a specific item, you should dress as the item you are going to buy. Be careful – it could be slightly embarrassing if you’re going in to buy tampons….

Need multiple items? Great – take your family along with you!

Challenge 3 – The Supermarket Dash

This challenge is simple – you have to get from one end of the supermarket to the other in the shortest time, whilst shouting the words “I forgot the cornflakes!!!” and frantically waving your arms in the air. Bonus points are given for shoving people head-first into the freezers…

On festive occasions, the word “cornflakes” can be substituted for items such as mince pies, cranberry sauce, hot-cross-buns, etc.

If you get bored with this one, an alternative version is to dress as an alcoholic tramp and crawl slowly along the floor towards the beer section whilst slurring the words “must have a…l…c…o…h…o…l.” If you can make it without being grabbed by security, you win.

Challenge 4 – Persuasion

Are you a good sales person? Now’s the time to find out. You have to act like a sales person and sell a product to someone that you wouldn’t usually expect to purchase that item. You can choose to make this as difficult as you want to, depending on how you’re feeling. For example, if you want an easy challenge you could try persuading an obese lady to purchase a packet of Jamie Dodgers. Slightly more difficult, you could try to sell shampoo to a bald man. Just don’t try to sell a pack of sausages to a vegetarian muslim….

Conclusion

All of these challenges should help ensure that your shopping trip remains interesting and entertaining. Just make sure that you shop at different supermarkets, to avoid being banned for bad behaviour….

No-one ever wants to come shopping with me anymore – I can’t understand why!?

Now you’ve finished reading this, why not read my article on alternative supermarket checkout etiquette.

Sitting in the corner of my lounge are a set of three small tables. These could be referred to as ‘occasional tables.’

My question is this: If they’re occasional tables, what are they the rest of the time? Furthermore, if I have a set of three occasional tables, should I be using them for different occasions or should I be tremendously extravagant and use them all for one big event?

I almost feel that my occasional tables are not achieving their full potential; ensconced in the corner of my lounge. Perhaps, with these furniture items being a part-time rest place for discarded items and drinks, on special occasions, they could engage in more exciting activities the rest of the time? The smallest occasional table, for example, could be a part time shelter for a homeless mongoose. The largest occasional table could be a life-raft for a very small colony of dwarf rabbits (incase they get stuck in a boat in rough weather).

The definition for an ‘occasional table’ is “a table that is small enough that it does not have a very practical use. It is used mostly for decoration or display.”

So, an occasional table is a bit like Katie Price (albeit with no bust…. unless someone has placed their priceless Winston Churchill sculpture on it)…

I think the definition should be changed to:

an occasional table is an extraordinary piece of furniture that, when not used as a rest place for items during significant occasions, can be used to save the lives of dwarf rabbits all over the world from certain peril on the high seas.

So, next time you see an occasional table sitting somewhere, looking unused, just remember that it’s only having a rest from its regular, important jobs. It’s waiting for the moment to fulfil its potential…

Today I’m going to have a rant about something (or rather, ‘someone’) that really pisses me off…

The guy (or woman – this isn’t a gender-specific annoyance) who walks into a cafe on a cold day and leaves the door open. It only takes 2 seconds to close the door and save everyone from a chilling blast of arctic cold up their jacksey.

Yet this idiot, wearing his super-thick winter coat, doesn’t think about that, does he?

So, what happens next?

You get up from your chair and walk across to ‘ferme la porte‘, ensuring that you slam it hard enough that the noise resonates around the room and shakes all the pictures off the walls. Everyone looks up at you, except for the ignorant ‘merde‘ who left it ajar in the first place. You then trudge back to your seat (although in your mind you’re walking up to the man, grabbing his head and bashing it onto the counter infront of him).

You sit down, feeling irritated, and continue with what you were doing (the crossword in the newspaper, in which, coincidentally, the answer to 4 across is ‘tosspot’ – well, it’s not really, but it does fit, so f*ck it!)

Just as your mood begins to return to somewhere near normality, the inevitable happens. The guy has ordered take-away and, having paid for his sandwich and coffee by emptying the entire collection of loose change from his wallet, bag and coat pockets into a heap on to the counter, he opens the door and goes to walk out. You’re waiting for him to either shut the door behind him or give you the motive for murder.

Instead, he taunts you by doing neither and begins a long goodbye speech to the cafe owner (with the door wide open). Well, that’s enough for you – you get up off your chair, spilling the unfinished crossword to the floor, and sprint across the room, slamming the door in his face and knocking him and his coffee half way down the street. That’ll teach the little ‘4 across!’