After a splendid trip to Prague at the weekend I had myself an extra day off to recuperate from the weekend's sightseeing and forced marches.
I decided to visit my local supermarket. No bugger will be about mid-afternoon on a Tuesday (except millions of pensioners who have taken my advice and gone to the shops when the workers aren't there instead of shopping at weekends or evenings).
As I turned into the car park, the air turned blue. It was heaving. Everybody except dear old Flashman was there (in t'pub - ED), kids, mothers, fathers, grandparents, Johnny Foreigner, wrong 'uns and ne'er do wells were going wild in the aisles.
Now fair enough it is the summer holidays so mothers and kids fine, but the rest of 'em!. No wonder I pay so much bloomin' tax, it's to keep those with limps, sunburn and scouse accents in the manner to which they have become accustomed too.
Note to the DSS - forget neighbours grassing up spongers, get yourself down Asda.
Maybe its time I jumped on the 'industrial injury' gravy train...or just put a foot under it!