Monday, 5 November 2007

Sex & Shopping

I’ve discovered that I’m a bit of a tart, when it comes to supermarkets. I know some people return, time and again, to the same, familiar shop to buy their weekly groceries. I always left the shopping to Mrs Blunt but have, since our divorce, had to learn the art of foraging for food amongst the aisles.

I won’t pretend it came naturally to me. My first attempt at buying fresh fruit came unstuck when I realised I hadn’t the faintest notion of what constituted a kilogram. Two kilos of nectarines sounds like a reasonable enough proposition, until you discover that’s about twenty of the little blighters – far more than any sane man would want to consume in a week. But mostly, I’ve taken to the grocery shop like a duck to water.

I find that I am as at ease in Morrison’s as I am in Sainsbury’s, as relaxed in Aldi as I am in Asda. I can get quite chipper at the thought of popping in to squeeze melons in my local Iceland. No one could accuse me of monogamy in my dealings with the major food retailers. I like to ‘put myself about a bit’, and have even been spotted in Netto, now and again.

Yet there’s one place that always makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s all that pseudo-patriotic red, white and blue … but I’ve never yet been seduced by Tesco. They just don’t do it for me. I know that the retail analysts will tell us that one pound in every eight spent in the UK finds its way into the hands of the Tesco family, but they’d be lucky if they got a tenner a year from me. They’re obviously doing something right as they steamroller their new shops across the country. A lot of folk clearly like what they do. Not Bill Blunt, though. The remorseless Tesco-fication of Britain leaves me cold. Their pioneering ‘out of town’ supermarkets almost spelled the death knell of Britain’s corner shop. What few are left will easily be seen off by the Tesco Metro’s that are springing up everywhere. Every time I hear that phrase ‘Every little helps’, I can’t help feeling just a little queasy.

Though I have forsworn setting foot in Tesco, there are still (thankfully) plenty of other retail giants offering the opportunity to saunter down the dairy aisle, coyly smiling at the rather attractive female choosing which brand of low-fat cottage cheese to buy, while I ruminate over yoghurts. Supermarkets are now the place of choice for the single, unattached male bent on picking up women, it seems. They perform the same social function as the dance hall or the coffee bar once did, in my youth. And a glance in the basket of any woman will give you an instant appraisal of the type of person she is.

My top tip, for any man who finds himself checking out ladies at the check-outs, is to look for a well-balanced basket. Plenty of fresh fruit, veg and all that stuff. A bottle of red wine, perhaps. Fight shy of the bottle of gin types: you can’t know for sure it’s not a daily habit.

12 comments:

Theresa111 said...

Bill, You're back! And in rare form, too. I vastly enjoyed reading about your foraging for food. I do not know TESCO, but there are some stores like it, here in the USA that are a turn-off for me. Happy shopping. Great day.

70steen said...

I hope you do realise dear Bill that we ladies scrutinise mens baskets too

& some are very 'not up to the job' ;-)

sylvie d said...

ah...I can see you have found the answer to your previous post...

Crofty said...

It's a problem: Asda is Walmart so can't shop there with their shocking labour record; Morrisons is too far away; Sainsbury too dear (and that rules out Marks' too) so Tesco give us Clubcard points and sent us to Amsterdam with our Airmiles.

You might be a supermarket tart Bill, but I feel more of a whore!

the food inspector said...

wait the hell a minute! Blunty man is looking for chicks at the grocery store? What the hell changed since the last post?

By the way 70steen, what do women look for in a basket may I ask?

Sex and shopping, I think I saw it on Seinfeld. Nice one Mr. Blunt.

Might you know what the ex is up to these days?

Bill Blunt said...

Thank you, all, for your concern. I can assure the Food Inspector that Mrs Blunt is not available for his pleasure. She was last seen in Hunstanton, enjoying the company of her paramor, Mr Fishfinger. Good luck to her, that's what I say.

70steen said...

Mr Food Inspector I am afraid I am unable give away such confidential information that has been instilled in us of the fairer sex since C1970 when the big hyper markets started here in the UK...... one bit of advice is try to do better than 4 tins of own brand value lager, curried nuts and cheap 2-4-1 ready meals... oh and always remember to wash before shopping :-)

the food inspector said...

Damn it!

Rev. Joseph Qelqoth said...

It is always good to discover another quality British Weblog. You can thank Lord Likely for sending me your way. Needless to say, I will be returning once I've blogrolled you.

Oh, and you may also want to thank Lord Likely for your Golden Cock of Excellence award. Just saying.

70steen said...

so Mr F.I. did you failed on all accounts then? or was it that I did not spill the inner sanctum secrets?

the food inspector said...

A little bit of both...

So now it's my choice between embracing the advice of an Aquarius or continuing my care-free shopping and dying alone...

... the fork in the road.

damn it again.

70steen said...

forks are always dangerous Mr F.I., a tough choice you have ahead of you :-)