Q. When is it OK to kick a dwarf?
A. When he says your wife's hair smells nice.
And on that politically correct note, let me introduce myself. I'm Y - fiancee, general nuisance and supplier of nude girly pictures to X, and I'm here in the capacity as guest to write an entry which I hope lives up to the usual high quality and amusement that my other half provides on a daily basis.
X is currently absent as she is organising a plot to kidnap David Beckham and blast him to the moon on the next available space rocket so that the British public no longer has to put up with stories about him. Unfortunately, her plot's been delayed as she spent two hours looking at Victoria's cleavage, so she won't be making it back here today. More details at a later date, I'm sure!
"OK, so what the buggering hell am I going to write about?" is the question I've been pondering for the last couple of days and in the end I opted for an advertisement campaign for a local shop. An odd choice for an entry, I'm sure you'll agree, but when you read more I'm sure you'll understand.
There's this grocery shop I regularly go to about 150 yards down the road from me that we use regularly mainly because they do 3 litre bottles of Virgin cola for �1. Bargain! But to be honest, I'm not sure how this shop stays open (and has been open for the 20 years we've lived here) because the guy who runs it is the worst shopkeeper ever.
I don't mean that in that he's a psychopath who goes all Vesuvius and shit when you give him a �20 note to buy a packet of Hubba Bubba. No. I mean that he just seems really bad at making a profit and running a shop.
For a start, the place should be an absolute haven for health inspectors. This place is the poster boy for any future 'World's Most Unhygenic Shops' programme that may be put into production. The milk fridge is basically one big block of cheese. He leaves old sacks of potatoes rotting in the back in full view of the rest of the shop. And he's got christmas chocolate selection boxes that I'm sure he put out for sale in 2000.
But I'm willing to let this go because as far as I'm concerned, any idiot dumb enough to buy fresh food from this place despite all the clues he leaves lying around deserves salmonella poisoning.
However, my main bone of contention is that on at least half a dozen occasions that I've gone in his shop he has been asleep. I don't know if he's trying out a psychological test like that bit in Clerks where Dante leaves a bunch of change on the counter whilst he takes a lie-down behind the counter or something, but it seems like something of a risk in an area where somebody once stole a set of stone bollards the day after they were put up.
I've also gone in sometimes and he's been eating his lunch. I'm not talking nibbling on a BLT here or snacking on a Curly Wurly - he literally has a big casserole dish full of some unidentified but stinky green shit and a big spoon and is guzzling away like nobody's business, usually dribbling half the contents down his shirt.
In addition to this, his stuff is just priced too low. We can buy big bags of chips for 59p. Mars bars are 25p. And there's the aforementioned bottles of Virgin cola that really should be going at about �2.50 a bottle, I'm thinking. The other day my brother went in and he just let him have a free can of Irn Bru because he couldn't be arsed opening the till!
Yet he's still open after all this time. Anybody thinking of opening up their own small business could do worse than learning from this guy. Just don't buy his mushrooms. They probably grew in the shop.
Ok, so it's not much of an advertising campaign when it's all said and done, but I won't tell the Advertising Standards Council if you don't.
Now, I know that some of you regular followers of X's diary will have become familiar with X's constant battles with her Izzles toy, and doubtless been amused by them. However, let me shed a little insight on to just how amusing these battles are when you've actually seen them in person before I depart you.
I was in the spare room at X's house a few weeks ago packing my bag before I went home. I could hear a kerfuffle from X's room where she had started an argument with Izzles with regards to trying to get her umbrella off her for the trip down to the train station. This was just about as amusing an incident as I can remember, but bear in mind that this skirmish was taking place out of my sight.
When I rounded the corner to see if X was ready, she was *actually* wrestling the umbrella off Izzles! It was quite the most worrying, but also the most amusing sight I'd ever seen! Believe me, you haven't lived until you've seen a grown woman fighting with a cuddly toy for an umbrella! :)
On that note, I'm going to bugger off now. Get well soon, X. xxxxxxxxx
If you enjoyed it, my name was Y. If you didn't, erm, bloody sod you then!
But before I go:-
A woman tells her friend she�s received a bunch of flowers from her husband.
"I suppose now I�ll have to spend the entire weekend on my back with my legs in the air." she says, to which the friend replies,
"Why? Don�t you have a vase?"
Thanking you.
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