Floppy Fish Fingers

I was getting my food delivered long before COVID made it cool. I avoid supermarkets in much the same way that Chris Witty avoids blinking.

I’ve just never been comfortable in that environment. Everything seems to so easily wind me up in there.

They move the eggs to a different aisle. My day is ruined.

They’ve run out of my cat’s favourite meat, so she’s gonna kick off when I get home. My day is ruined.

Then there’s the self-service checkout machines, they seem to have it in for me. Always giving me grief about my debit card etiquette.

‘Card inserted too early’

Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I had to give you ample warning in order for you to perform the only thing it is that you do.

‘Please fully insert card into reader’

Oh great, so now I’m getting self-conscious about the size of my debit card.

‘PIN OK’

Okay? I think you’ll find I absolutely smashed that. All 4 numbers, bang on, first time mate.

I can’t understand anyone that wouldn’t accept the offer of the supermarket bringing it directly to their door.

‘Yeah but they don’t send you the freshest items, it’s all short life if you don’t do it yourself’

I don’t care if it expires before it gets to my fridge! I would gladly eat a week’s worth of shopping on my doorstep if it meant never setting foot in an Asda again.

I also think supermarkets should actually have to pay customers a pound to have to use their awful 3 wheeled trolleys. I always assumed it was teenagers that dump those things in rivers but I’m beginning to understand that its actually grumpy old bastards like me doing it.

I used to be a bit picky about which supermarket I chose. I’m ashamed to say I was even a little bit snobby about it.
My Mum once suggested I started getting food delivered from Iceland and, no word of a lie, I almost punched her in the face.
‘Why stop there Mum? Why don’t I go the whole hog and start eating out of the bins like an urban fox?!’

But I’m glad to say those days are behind me. I am no snob. There is just something about Iceland’s food that makes me uneasy. I think it might be because I often can’t tell what it is. I remember when they used to sponsor ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.’ Before every ad break they’d show some of their range which always seemed far less appealing to me than a pig’s anus. Different strokes for different folks I guess.

Our current delivery driver has an annoying new habit though. He’s started reading out my substitutions to me on the doorstep. What’s all that about?

Like some Ye Olde Town Crier he’ll give it ‘JUST THE ONE SUBSTITUTE TODAY SIR! UNFORTUNATELY THEY DIDN’T HAVE ANY OF THE EXTRA SMALL CONDOMS YOU ORDERED!’

‘Whoa, all right mate, keep your voice down!’ I’ll say, waving to the neighbours.

‘SO THEY’VE SUBSTITUTED THOSE WITH A TEN PACK OF WATER BALLOONS IS THAT ALL RIGHT?’

‘Yes that’s fine thank you, Brian bloody Blessed. Now kindly take yourself and your sack barrow off my property before my fish fingers go floppy.’

5 thoughts on “Floppy Fish Fingers

  1. Reblogged this on Mitch Teemley and commented:
    My Featured Blogger this week is Ben Goddard, a.k.a. Benny Boy. I recently discovered Ben and know very little about him except that he’s very British and very witty, loves tea but hates coffee, and (here’s an enigma) drinks Coors beer. Quick tip for non-Brits: When Ben talks about buying groceries from Iceland, he’s not referring to the country, but a supermarket chain that specializes in–you guessed it–frozen foods. Right then, grab your trolley and press on!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey Mitch, just wanted to say a genuine thank you for both your reblog and your kind words! That’s very good of you man. It makes me smile to think my ‘very british’ nonsense is being read across the pond. It’s much appreciated friend.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s