People: We have enough of this lot, thank you very much

People we have enough of image by Tom Nash
There are a lot of people in this world. Some might argue too many.

While I am certainly NOT suggesting that radical population control is something we should consider, I AM suggesting that maybe we have enough of certain types of people. Maybe not even types, just particular traits, habits and personality quirks…

Such as:

People who hold conversations in the middle of busy pavements
If there’s one entry on this list we can agree on, it’s this, right? How has society come so far without some kind protocol for this situation?

Well, we haven’t and the best we can do is mutter something to express our frustration or make a point of brushing them with a shoulder as we struggle past this roadblock constructed of self-obsessed moron.

The world doesn’t need any more of these people, thanks.

People who are taken by surprise when they have to pay in shops

Mentioned this in a previous post about shopping. It still irritates.

People whose career goal is ‘be famous’

I’m just not sure there’s enough ‘off’ left in the world that this lot can fuck… That makes me sad in my heart.

People who try to force their opinions on you

I consider myself a fairly liberal-minded person; the idea of people of the same sex marrying doesn’t fill me with inexplicable and highly questionable rage, I don’t think that immigration is anything near as big a problem as it is made out to be and the fact that companies appeal to xenophobes by talking up their British-based call centres in their advertising makes me die a little inside.

You may not agree. Fine. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. Know why? It’s because I understand that preaching at someone who is not interested is a waste of time and energy. The only opinion you change is their opinion of you. Guess what, professor? That freshly formed opinion won’t be more positive…!

Can’t handle the fact that people hold different opinions? Don’t bring up divisive subjects. Easy.

We can lump in conspiracy theorists who talk down to anyone who disagrees as well, actually. We have enough of you too.

People who label cuntish behaviour as ‘banter’ and pricks as ‘lads’

See also: anyone who labels themselves a ‘casual’ or ‘geezer’. We’re on to you, fellas; you’re not funny, you’re odious.

And while we’re here- who told you that doing up the top button on a polo shirt looks good? (Did you ever consider they were taking the piss?)

People who vocalise web acronyms

Ever responded to something funny by saying ‘lol’ rather than- you know- laughing… out loud? Maybe you drop an ‘omg’ when shocked or surprised… If you are not a thirteen year-old girl, we have enough of you, thanks.

People who think St George’s Day should be a national holiday

Oh, if only they could come up with a valid reason for it, then the rest of us could stop rolling our eyes whenever the subject comes up… (Having a tantrum and noting that people seem to enjoy St Patrick’s Day isn’t an reasoned argument, I’m afraid.)

Until that happens, or hell freezes over, they will continue to battle for the cause by sharing angry memes on Facebook and believing The Sun and Daily Mail when they make up stories about pubs banning folks from entering if they wield flags or wear England football shirts.

And that’s why we have enough of this lot. Please do not make any more. Ta.

People who say “This would be a great place to work if it wasn’t for [insert sole reason job exists]!”

Hahahahaha… Cretins.

People who wear sunglasses inside or at night

The quickest way to spot the biggest wanker at any event- of course it’s the bloke at the bar wearing shades at 10pm.

So maybe they’re doing us a service by providing a simple yet effective way of identifying them…? I take it back, cocks who wear sunglasses indoors, keep being you.

People who take photos with a tablet device

After the revolution, it will be your civic duty to slap the iPad (other devices are available) from the hands of anyone who takes a photo with one in a public place. There will be fines for those who do not comply.

TOM HAS SPOKEN.

Supermarkets: Who you can expect to see (Part two)

Supermarkets by Tom NashThis is a topic that can run and run.

More of the delightful people that frequent your local branch of whatever:

The aisle-hog
Usually a woman of a certain vintage. Just like on the High Street, she is oblivious to anyone else in the vicinity and mooches about at a snail’s pace like the fucking Queen of Tesco, stopping in the most inappropriate places. Value personal space? You better forget about that when she’s around; browse in one place too long and you’ll find a trolley nestled into the back of your legs and a crazy old lady standing closer to you than your better half when you get intimate. They are also responsible for the majority of trolleys left blocking access to aisles as they waddle off to get something they forgot from the other side of the store.

The lad
Usually dressed in a dirty tee shirt and sweatpants, there’s only one section of the shop he’s interested in… BEER!! If he’s with his friends expect any conversation to be held at volumes usually reserved for when you’re standing next to a speaker in a nightclub. Oh and chances are every second word will be ‘fuck’, even if he’s talking about his mother.

The student
There’s two types: The FE student and the undergraduate.

The FE student will be found anywhere there’s a large college but no McDonalds or rubbish chicken shop nearby, always as part a group and will generally be obnoxious and rude, as they are still trapped in the all-consuming vapidity that is teenage life.

The undergraduate is different. While also found in groups, the supermarket experience is new and exciting and is treated like a fun day out… Until the reality of a student budget hits home and the contents of their baskets change from fresh fruit and veg, brand name biscuits and chicken breast to value noodles, potatoes and whatever’s in the clearance bit. Then it’s a more subdued affair.

The stoner
Late in the evening they descend on 24 hour stores like a scene from a Zombie film. They can be found in either the crisps, biscuits or cake aisles contemplating what to buy with a seriousness you only usually encounter when you go to an airport. All night petrol stations are gutted; they used to have the late night snack market sewn up, now most Tescos sell Krispy Kreme doughnuts, competition is FIERCE.

Missed part one? Click here.

http://thewritetomnash.co.uk

Supermarkets: Who you can expect to see (Part one)

Supermarkets by Tom NashThe local supermarket. Surely the best place to go if you want to get a feel for an area.

Now I don’t mean ‘this town has a Lidl- hahahaha, poor people must live here’, after all, there’s a Waitrose in the centre of Croydon and I am willing to guess that quail’s eggs aren’t a big seller in there.

And anyone who doesn’t live with their head up their own arse knows they’re more likely to meet a talking dog than stumble across someone from money who actually has manners and social skills. So forget about the preconceptions you hold regarding each individual supermarket chain (Sainsbury’s sells Special Brew too, you know), it is the produce on sale and the freakshows buying it that betrays the true aspiration levels of a community.

But enough of the Sociology bullshit. Let’s get categorising your fellow shoppers with ill-informed and sweepingly judgemental statements:


The hen-pecked fella
When he’s with the missus, his role is to push the trolley, reach things from high shelves and do any heavy lifting. That is all. If he’s on his own, he’ll be buying Tampax. That is all.

The builder at lunchtime
All he wants is to pay for his fahking sandwich and copy of The Sun so he can get back to work, but instead, fate has conspired against him and now he’s stuck in the queue behind someone doing their fahking weekly shop. He is not happy about this and for some reason, feels that everyone nearby should be aware of just how put out he feels.

If he just went to the self-service till, he would’ve been done ten minutes ago, but no; this fella can operate machinery that in the wrong hands can kill people, but a touch-screen is way too advanced; he ‘don’t do that computer shit.’

The man who’s given up
Not hard to find. Just bypass the fruit and veg section entirely and go straight to the ready-meal aisle. He’ll be wheezing his way along it, seeking out the microwavable Spaghetti Bolognese for one. As you pass him, sneak a peek in his basket (it’s never a trolley). Fray Bentos pies, right? Right.

The regretful mum
It’s the eyes that give them away. They’re glazed over, almost cadaverous. Her body may well be in the chilled meats aisle with her tribe of brats, but her mind is somewhere else entirely. Maybe on a beach somewhere hot. Maybe at home with a pillow, a firm grip and a blank stare… She’ll be that one mum that’s not afraid of threatening her kids with violence in front of strangers, as in her mind the idea of prison seems akin to a lovely holiday.

The judgemental shit on checkout
If you have the audacity to go to their checkout having, by mistake, left your canvas ‘bag for life’ at home, prepare for your level of service to fall somewhere between ‘stroppy teenager after bollocking by step-parent they don’t like’ and ‘Daily Mail reader interacting with immigrant.’ If that’s how they handle a mere slip of the mind, lets hope that nobody ever shits on their conveyor belt, eh?

Want to read more? This post’s about shopping

http://thewritetomnash.co.uk

Shopping: High street, mall, wherever

At the Shops by Tom NashMy idea of shopping is working out what I need, going to the shops that sell what I need, buying the stuff I need, then fucking off home. It’s simple really.

However, I’m in a relationship with a lady-person that enjoys nothing more than spending a day wandering around shopping centres and malls looking at shoes. I’m often called into bag carrying duty and tend to pass the time by checking out who else is about. People like:

The shop assistant
Well yes, they are a given, smart-arse. You get two kinds; the ‘too keen’ and the ‘only interested in my staff discount’.


Note to the ‘too keen’: if you asked if we want help and we said ‘no’, fuck off. Don’t lurk nearby like the Korean lady in Menace II Society, O-Dog ended up shooting her, remember? Although, saying that, you are much preferable to the ‘staff discount’ lot, who treat every customer like a personal insult.

I’m sure you did drink a lot the other night and I’m sure your orange friend at the next till is happy to listen to you list off the amount you drank like it’s an achievement worthy of praise, but just let me pay so I don’t have to hear you any more. It’s bad enough that I know you exist now.

The Topman (or other generic high street shop) advert
You’re more likely to find this lad in smaller towns where the shopping choices are limited. You spot them on the high street and notice that everything they are wearing was on the mannequin in the shop you were just in. Apart from their semi-professional footballer haircut… That’s the same as all of their mates.

The middle-aged lady
I haven’t quite worked this one out yet, but what I have ascertained so far is they exist to stop randomly, walk in to people they haven’t noticed and hold conversations with other middle-aged ladies in the middle of busy pavements.

You know the lady in front of you at the checkout that seems to forget that transactions aren’t completed till you PAY and when she remembers spends half an hour rooting through her ridiculously big handbag for her teeny tiny purse, in the process holding up everyone else in the queue? Yeah, that’s her.

The husband or boyfriend
Can usually be found, laden with bags, a few steps behind a woman that is browsing the racks, looking bored. They are often spotted hanging around the fitting room area or anywhere inside a shop where there is somewhere to sit. Tense shoulders and eyes straight ahead are a dead giveaway if you happen upon them in the ladies’ undercrackers section.

The teenage boy and his mum
He’s in his fitted cap and hoodie, bopping about like he’s got stones in his shoe. He’ll probably have a face on him like a five year old who’s dropped their ice cream as well. He’d look really fucking hard if he wasn’t with his mummy. And his name wasn’t Tim or Julian or something. And he wasn’t in the supermarket bit of Marks and Spencer.

Perspective’s a wonderful thing.

Admittedly you don’t meet this lot in shopping centres and malls, they tend to be friends of friends you meet at parties that harp on about working in ‘retail’ and make it out to be as worthy and challenging as aid relief in war-torn third world countries. Fuck off, you just work in a shop.