– gold medal Olympians may be in line for a gong, but the one above is about the only honours award I’m likely to get in the near future: Sainsbury’s are delivering our order this afternoon. Spare a thought for their drivers – a friend of ours, whose business recently collapsed, has found employment as a Sainsbury’s driver and delivered the other day to a new customer. When he arrived her dog broke loose from the house, tore down the garden path and bit him in an extremely delicate area (and I don’t mean that he was standing in the herb garden). Ouch! Instead of apologising the woman explained that her dog ‘doesn’t like men’ – apparently it was his fault for having a Y chromosome – and he was rushed to hospital and is currently on antibiotics and off work. Frankly, I would round up all such irresponsible dog owners, stick them in a pound and leave them there until they’re sorry. And then fine them. And make them take a test before giving them a licence.
I had a similar experience years ago: getting off a bus in a strange town, I looked around for a pub. It was in the days when pubs weren’t allowed to open before 5.30. I checked my watch – it was 5.30. The pub sign said ‘Open’ – no problem then. I pushed the door: it opened; but before I could get any further I was charged by a furious Alsatian dog which promptly bit me on the leg. The landlord came out and started shouting at me. I was very upset and shaken but managed to point out that his sign had said ‘Open’ and his door had been unlocked; whereupon he took the dog and disappeared upstairs, ranting about how everything was going wrong for him. It was left to one of the regulars to call me an ambulance and mop up the blood on the carpet.
Of all things I find indifference to the sufferings of others, the most depressing. Particularly when you (or your car, dog or child) has caused it.
A People Pooter
I have an idea – I might almost call it Swiftian – to solve the problem of social housing in rich areas. Want to get rid of these parasites taking up valuable living space so you can sell their houses for a fortune? Simples. Just use a People Pooter. Place the tube over the poor person, suck them up and redistribute them by means of a tube to Stoke-on-Trent. Then this valuable housing can be sold to a tycoon from Saudi.
And now I must away. I have to phone Regent College yet again to see if they’ve heard about the funding for Daniel.
2 thoughts on “The Order of the Supermarket”
Much sympathy to your friend, being a postie I know the dangers and we are reminded of them frequently by management. I would point him to this on the BBC
and recommend that he makes formal complaint to the police, even if they don’t press charges it ensures that there is a record of this dog’s behaviour so if there is any further incidents the owner cannot claim that it has never happened before.
Yes, thanks. That’s a good idea