On being an embarrassment in public

On being an embarrassment in public

To the local Asda for a few household essentials. Our total purchase consists of a largely inoffensive mix of the following:

* Four large Galaxy bars
* A Bombay Bad Boy flavour Pot Noodle
* A six pack of Pedigree Chum dog food
* A two litre bottle of Domestos bleach
* A bottle of Gordon's Gin

As the sales assistant puts this little lot through the till, it is perhaps best not to say "Well, that's the kids' supper sorted, then", as they tend not to see the funny side, and may even phone the Social Services hit squad hotline before you've even left the car park.

So that's why I say it every time I go in.

And that's why Mrs Duck prefers to shop online.


A Widdy-Free Vote-o

I made a vow last week. I vowed thussly: "No matter what, there will be no room for Ann Noreen Widdecombe in this week's Thursday vote-o." And, this short mention aside, I am a man of my word. And buggered if I can think of anything to write for the vote-o quote-os that doesn't feature the member for Maidstone and The Weald. Damn you, unnecessary vows! See what you have wrought!

So, if you please, vote for one of the following five Tales of Mirth and Woe*, featuring - for once - actual quotes from the stories:

Conk: "Spackaspackaspackaspacka!"

Road Rage: "It was red, throbbing, with a vein down the side"

Graffiti: "Oh fuckery."

Kendo's Barbie of Woe: "You don't tend to theorize about the explosive tendencies of raw alcohol when your trousers are on fire"

Stripper: "Ouch, my bottom appears to be alight."

There appears to be a higher than average quota of burning genitalia this week, but that is only because I have yet to write the one about the DIY surgery. So, as always, it's your choice. Get in there!

* Get your spare copy now - the ideal Christmas present for a sweary friend or close relative