Alright then I'll admit it I enjoyed that.

Went into work to day and as usual on a Monday it was stock rotation day. To do this we take a certain degree of our stock off the rails, mark it down to £1 and put it on the cunningly named £1 rail. To make room on the £1 pound rail we take the old stuff off there and throw it in the recycling bins. Normally this is a bit difficult because we have to sort of juggle stuff about to make sure we have ample stock at any point.

Today however because it was christmas we got to do two weeks stock in one go giving ample oppotunity for fashion facism with lots of "size 30? Put in the bin, fat people shouldn't be allowed to wear clothes" "Lumious green nylon jumper? If you're going to wear that I don't you on my planet let alone in my shop" Although the fact we haven't been able to sell it for a quid suggest our customers quite good taste anyway.

Then I moved on to do the same thing with the books and found a very old volume entitled Treason by Rebecca West which was so good I'm happy to decide it was just a very elaborate forgery.

Then the shite, who is still there by the way, rolled up carrying a large picture that had broken so I said "Oh have you got the big picture from the back room?" to which she replied no it's from the basement"

At which point I decided fuck it if they're not going to listen it doesn't matter what language you talk to them in because they're too stupid to understand. So I decided to write it down slowly with lots of pictures. The decison to down tools and fuck off upstairs in the middle of the day led to a little bit of a confrontation with the shite and the phrase,

"Look can you at least pretend you're not a fucking idiot for five fucking minutes" may or may not have been used. She responded to this by doing the poor little rich girl pout and going

"I think you're insane, you're very dangerous and I'm feeling very threatend" despite the fact I was calmly sitting down at the time so the only obvious response was,

"You're getting paid £20,000 a year to work in a mental health project why don't you do your fucking job".

Then I left early and went to the pub before seeing my doctor who rather unsuprisingly disagreed with shite's assessment on my mental health.

To be honest I'm still too busy laughing still to pose a question but Basra hey, that's going to go well.