Shopping for Beer and shopping in Selfridges

I noticed a sign in a local shop yesterday. It was from The Home Office, who are basically a big group of government people who tell you what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Oh, sorry.. they actually state that their job is to… “make a difference in the real world, helping build a society in which people are safer from crime and there is equality and fairness for all”. Yeah.. righto..

Anyhow, this was a fairly large poster and had the backing of several other organisations by the looks of it. As I queued up to get to the till I had a quick read of it. There’s all the usual gumph like, “Do you realise that it is an offence to purchase alcohol for someone who is under 18?”, however I noticed this one about half-way down…

“Check the alcohol content of your purchase. Do you know how strong it is ? A member of staff will be happy to discuss the strength of alcohol and possible effects it may have.”

I looked across at the guy serving. He was about 18 and was obviously still nursing a hangover. I could only imagine what he’d say if I asked him about the alcohol content in my cans of Fosters..

Me – “Hello mate, the Home Office poster there says I should stop and discuss with you the alcohol content of this lager and the possible effects it will have.”

Him – “Nahhh mate, you don’t want any of that crap – get yourself some Stella Artois, that’ll seriously mash your head up!”

While we’re talking about shopping, I was in Birmingham the other week. I didn’t really want to be there if I’m honest. I’d spent several hours looking at wedding rings and the prices alone seemed to need mortgages to cover them. I wasn’t in the shopping mood in any way, shape or form. However, there we were in Selfridges. I tried to calm myself down by looking at “man stuff”, so I was busy gazing at the HD TV’s etc. It was about this stage that Em decided she wanted to take a look at the lingerie, so naturally the HD TV’s suddenly took a back seat. I followed quickly into the underwear section and within no time I was happily helping her choose between the Elle MacPherson and DKNY underwear. However, I ended up drifting into Agent Provocateur and heard some giggling coming from the changing rooms.

Now, being the gentleman I am I thought it best to keep away from the changing rooms, as I could see that there was a few girls crowded around. Then, as I was trying my best not to look too pervy, a girl comes out of the changing rooms wearing .. well.. not a fat lot. Try as I might, I end up looking her up and down with my gob on the floor. She had some small french panties on, a basque and a pair of high-heel shoes. She was about 6″2′ and seemed to be walking straight towards us…

“Can I help you?”

..she said.

“Errr.. errmm….. errr…. well……errr…….. “

…said I, trying to find the ability to speak. I figured she was drunk as she’d obviously come out of the changing rooms not caring whether I was there or not. However, it didn’t really matter because I had a whole looooooonnnnnnngggg list of things she could help me with.

“No thanks, we’re just browsing”

..said Em…

I couldn’t get my head around it, but then it slowly dawned on me that the girl was actually a member of staff, and – after asking Emily about it – they’re actually given an allowance to wear the Agent Provocateur stuff during their shift…. yes, ONLY the Agent Provocateur stuff… no t-shirts or skirts here… just the Agent Provocateur underwear. They prance around in it all day long ..

So.. so.. I really don’t know where this blog is going, but hey .. wow.. wow.. hey..

“She works here you nutter”