On the science of supermarket shopping
As the credit crunch forces us all to tighten our belts, it has become harder for impoverished families up and down the country to buy those everyday goods that are guaranteed to result in sickening, wallpaper-stripping farts.
So, in the name of SCIENCE, SHITS and GIGGLES we ask the question: Which supermarket offers the cheapest basket of fart fruit? My pal TRT (a genuine white-coated scientist) and I vowed to find out. We have called our plan Operation Supermarket Squeak
Donning our protective gear, we went to Waitrose, Asda, Sainsbury and Tesco with the following shopping list:
- Savoy Cabbage
- Jerusalem Artichokes (luxury item)
- Brussel Sprouts
- Onion Bhajis
- Own-brand Baked Beans
- Value brand tinned sweet corn
- Curry sauce (extra hot)
- Bran Flakes
- Four-pack of Guinness
- Izal shiny white toilet paper (in case of follow-through)
Sadly, the budget didn't run as far as Marks and Spencer, and our Harrods personal shopper flung us out onto the cold, dismal streets of Kensington once our filthy secret became apparent.
Worse, those stuck-up bastards at Waitrose don't stock shiny white, so we had to make do with a packet of luxury moist towelettes and a handful of barbed wire, for the pursuit of SCIENCE forces such challenges upon us.
So, the scores on the doors:
Now we know why the lady on the Asda adverts is always slapping her arse, while we suspect Waitrose shoppers probably wipes their bums on wads of brand new fifties.
Of course, the application of SCIENCE doesn't end here. Our mission now is to find a volunteer to consume these products and find out the guff-per-pound ratio, measuring their trouser coughs for style, control, damage and aggression and translating this data into the Scaryduckworth-Lewis Method of Rating Things for Excellence.
Sadly, the ideal candidate – Craig Charles out of Robot Wars – is currently having loads of granny sex on Coronation Street and is thus unavailable. Furthermore, I have NO desire to get close to Jamie 'Fat Tongue' Oliver's rear passage, which means he's out as well. Which means it looks like it's going to be me, then. As usual.
You – dear reader – are more than welcome to witness the proceedings in the name of scientific neutrality, but please: No smoking in the lab
When it's all over, and once the builders have made the facilities safe, we shall write it up and submit the paper to those wallahs at the BMJ (Bottom Music Journal) for peer review.
In these days of dwindling natural resources and the threat of a renewed Cold War over transit of fossil fuels through Eastern Europe, the entire energy security of the British way of life could depend on these findings. Use them wisely.
On rampant self-promotion
Courtesy of Metro, thanks to Rikaitch for the spot