Saturday, August 28, 2004

Shopping on Oxford Street

One of the most infuriating things in the world is to walk along Oxford Street in London, on a Saturday or Sunday, preferably in the afternoon. There are so many people walking at the pace of a tortoise! Of course, you could say these people are window-shopping, taking their time, relaxing, taking things easy or whatever else you like to call it, but the fact is that they make my shopping experience a true nightmare in every respect. First of all it takes ages to even get to your destination as everyone is walking at the speed of 0,0005 miles per hour! As you try to make your way through the gormless, aimless gawping idiots ("Oh look, there's New Look! It's a sale, let's go in!" - but let's go in extremely slowly so that we cause a bottle-neck at the entrance and no-one else can go in!), the stress strats to build up, gradually but staedilly, until you feel like exploding. You make your way through herds of flabby-arsed middle-aged women and their pot-bellied, football t-shirt-wearing, belching other halves, swarms of apparently arse-less young men in trousers so baggy that they are not fit to be called trousers anymore(should be called trouser-skirts) and bunches of screaming young girls, who either subscribe to the anorexic look or the look whereby they wear one of those tops that is supposed to show off your wonderfully flat tummy, but in their case flobs of fatty flesh are sticking out, while two big jelly tits bounce gorrishly on the top (they are the happy consummers of fast foood hamburgers, chips, deep-fried chicken, pot-noodles, take-away pizzas and crisps!). All these delightfully charming people are all out on the town to go shopping; they have supplied themselves with new credit cards to use so they can add to their ever-growing, unconquerable mountains of debt, they are dragging their feet along the pavement, walking like entranced zombies on a quest for so called "retail therapy", the polite phrase for "go out and spend all the money you don't have, feel bettter for a while and thn pull your hair out because you can't pay the bills and the bailiff is knocking on the door".
So, as you try to amble through the masses, you are by this stage filled with frustration (you've been trying to get to somewhere which normally takes you 5 minutes and it has taken you half an hour!), anger and misanthropic feelings. By the time you get to the shop, push your way through the inevitable bottle-neck, you are so tired that you wonder why you ever came out of the house in the first place and wouldn't it be nice to be back in bed again! You even forget what you came here to buy, you push your way out of the shop and onto the street while feeling utter disdain for the herd and make your way to the back streets to get off Oxford Street and go back home. Once you put the key in the door, you remember what it was you wanted to buy: "Shit!!! I forgot to buy condoms!" (now you have to go out again, don't you?) :-(


1 Comments:

Blogger The Condom Spot said...

Hey, you have a great blog here! I'm definitely going to bookmark you!
Have a Safe Day
I have a **condoms** site/blog. It pretty much covers ##condoms## related stuff.

Come and check it out if you get time :-)

October 21, 2005 at 6:49 PM  

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