Well today I must get down to Tescos and do my shopping for the fortnight. I can’t bear going more often, it’s always chock a block and you have to queue for ages at the checkout. It’s handy though because it’s in a small shopping centre and of course you can save a few quid there. There is a chemist, an estate agent, a shop selling curtains and cushions, even a chippie so usually I can get everything I need, pretty much the full monty. There’s a petrol station too. It’s not far, down the High Street, left at the roundabout, a short way down the dual carriageway and bob’s your uncle.
You have to use a multi-storey car park nearby but they let you take the trolley across, you don’t have to cart your carrier bags along. There is a zebra crossing which also helps. On Sundays they occasionally hold a car boot sale in the outdoor part.
Anyway, today’s shopping list includes, salad cream, Scotch eggs, aubergines and courgettes. I can’t decide whether to do bubble and squeak or jacket potatoes for this evening. I also need washing up liquid, tights and some kitchen roll. I just hope I don’t get that bloke on the check-out – he really isn’t the full shilling, a total pillock.
And when I’m eventually home, I can have a cuppa with a couple of digestives to recuperate.
So there you have it folks, your starter for ten. Please add, embellish, illustrate with shopping examples of your own - to please Max who doesn't think we're taking him sufficiently seriously. Also to get me some Brownie points.
Hahaha! I have just had my food delivered from Tescos. I don't go to the actual shop any more as it does my head in being chock a block and full of idiots.
ReplyDelete(true story)
There is (or was) a chain called "Food King" in the U.S. I think a. is the food "Queen". A masterpiece, as usual! And thank you for taking pity on a sleepy Max and posting for him today. I owe you one. Actually I owe you much more than one, don't I? :))
ReplyDeleteI tried hard to stay away from food, but failed again. Story of my life really.
ReplyDeleteDo stop the smarm Max, it doesn't suit you and you know it can't last :)
Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteMy friend still makes fun of me from the first time I went to supermarket over here. I was doing ok, till I got to the check out, and the lady asked me, "paper or plastic", I wasn't sure what she meant, so I said, I'm paying with cash... yup, my friends thought it was hilarous, as of course she was referring to the shopping bags, not my method of payment.
I also always get completely confused as to what they do call kitchen roll over here. I just never can remember, so in my home it is now referred to as kitchen paper.
These words are insightful, educational and like ambrosia to my eyes. I will be back daily to enjoy your wonderful musings and will encourage all to do the same. Huzzah! Good work sir and a wonderful day.
ReplyDeleteThe picture on your blog is labeled correctly, it is not a shopping cart. I am sure you may have a different term for it, but in our household it is considered a dance partner!
ReplyDelete@a-What an odd name for a human person, if you don't minding me remarking so. Yes, it is true that it is hard to stay away from food. In fact, if you are ever successful in staying away from food, you will often die. The Smarm Max character is unknown in my parish.
ReplyDelete@Caroline-I am happy that you seem to have a friend. So many are friendless these days. How novel this paper or plastic statement is. And you say that you found this funny, correct? Even Hilarious, I believe you said? Yes. Well. I personally have never had a roll in the kitchen. Or anywhere else for that matter, as I am still a proud virgin. So I am unable to respond to that part of your comment. Bless you, young child.
@Canucklehead-I used to know a Canuclehead when I was doing missionary work in the Outback many years ago. Perhaps you may be a descendant of his. Unfortunate man. Sodomy and bestiality were his downfall. He was eventually lynched by a group of sheep stockmen, I believe. He was from Canada if my memory serves. Thank you for visiting this fine web-log, sir, and for your kind remarks with regard to ambrosia.
Virgin, Vicar Ezra? That's unprecedented on this blog. You should've seen me fighting off those dogs, trying like hell to hump my legs. Of course, I might have let them do it from time to time, cos I'm such a generous girl, you see. Ask anyone. And I mean, ANYONE! :-)
ReplyDeleteI have a confession to make. Well, several. Actually, how long do you have? :-) Virgin?
hmmm, I've never had one of those .... i wonder how virtuous the good vicar is ... thanks god he doesn't understand italics
Too much agro in the shop for me. Anyroad,, most of the shop keepers are beastly, although they think I am the bees knees. Then I tell them to belt up. I’m too blinkered for that. They all just want to chin wag. I want them to chivvy along but they just keep fannying along. I just hope they don’t diddle me.
ReplyDeleteMy Dear Miss Girl:
ReplyDeleteMy child, your consternation over past leg-humping is certainly noted and greatly condemned. One of the doglets in question, you will be happy the hear, has ceased to exist.
I hear confessions Thursdays in the early evenings at the rectory, and I have inscribed your name in the appointment register for 10 minutes past the hour of eight o'clock, Thursday next. You may have up to the normal 18 minutes if you wish.
The rectory is located in Alice Springs, NT. Please be prompt.
Notes to all from Vicar Ezra:
ReplyDeleteIf it is the desire of the followers of this web-log to reinstate the requirement of comment moderation, it should be noted that using the kind of language recently noted by one Miss Candy Girl, on this page, is certainly a fast way to accomplish that objective.
Thank you.
Dear Miss ettarose:
ReplyDeleteHow chuffed you must be. However, we must ask that you attempt to defanny and undiddle if you please. And my God have mercy on your insane soul.
Vicar Ezra
Thank you Vicar. You're such a kind soul.
ReplyDeleteDo you think 18 minutes would be enough? Oh well, I'll try my best.
I'll be wearing my catholic school girl outfit, to rise up to the importance of the moment.
just curious, which one of those animals kicked the bucket?
Er, nice post?
ReplyDeleteDear Miss Girl:
ReplyDeleteThe standard 18 minute confessional should be more than adequate if the lady will confine herself to only the most major of her transgressions.
Although Vicar Ezra is Church of England, he rather enjoys the costumes of the younger heretics. You may, however, be compelled to sit in the special disciplinary high-chair for extra-naughty young ladies which stands several feet above my desk. However, I am prepared to look up at you as I sit, as an accommodation to your desperate need for absolution.
Please be prompt. In fact, please be early if you possibly can. Thank you.
Oh vicar, you're making me blush. And trust me, it's not at all easy!
ReplyDeleteI'm counting the hours until tomorrow, at eight at your place. eer, i mean, the rectory.
Well. i'll be gone for now to make the short list of my transgressions, which will take me quite some time.
i might pop in later on, if you're still around.
Dear Miss ettarose:
ReplyDeleteOh! Such a sight for sore eyes were the tidbits of great hilarity on your wonderful web-log. Stopping by your place was one of the first orders of business for me when I flew in here today. As noted in my comment, I was, however, saddened by the prediction for Aquarians such as myself, and I fear it has already occurred. It has also come to my attention that Miss ettarose herself may perhaps be in some need of a confession, or at the very least a good talking to. Please DO contact me in that regard when you fell you are ready to unburden yourself. Thank you for your lovely company.
Well, good night everyone. Vicar Ezra is going to bed now. It is almost six o'clock. He stays up late only on Thursdays to hear confessions.
ReplyDeleteGod bless you all until tomorrow!
Is salad cream like salad dressing? What if it's a vinegar & oil dressing? What is it called then?
ReplyDeleteOr is it just, *hurl*, salad that been put into a food processor and blended up like a milkshake?
Vicar,
ReplyDeletewith all due respect, it seems selfish that you limit your confessionals to Thursdays only. What is to happen to those whose transgressions bother them on Wednesdays or Fridays?
Is there no rest for the weary, only the pious?
what's to be said?
ReplyDeleteReading through these comments I believe that it is the work of a sole person (maybe as high as three) with lots of blogger alibis at their disposal. the whole thing is crazy - CRAZY I TELL YOU!
Salad cream is more like mayonnaise but tangier.
ReplyDelete@Claire-thank you so much for that answer. Max (obviously by his silence) had not clue.
ReplyDelete@Angelica, Max is not British, luv, he is only trying to learn to speak their weird language. Unfortunately, right now Max only speaks English. Max is willing to go out on a limb here and will tell you that he thinks "Hurl" is an American (traditional English, that is) verb which refers to projectile vomiting. It may also have some British connotation as well, though, such as that incredibly fascinating thing certain countries do during the Winter Olympics, that involves a guy with a broom on the ice. I will wait for the other Brits to see if they know. But Claire usually knows quite a lot of these. Oh, wait. You said you already knew what Hurl was. I really don't think I would make a milkshake out of Hurl, though. At least not the American version of Hurl. Just sayin'...
Thank you for your question, Angelica. Max is pleased that you found his little blog. Come again, ok?
As for the "vinegar and oil" comment, I'm afraid we usually limit it to two questions.
Angelica, if Max may be serious for a moment, and he probably can't, he wants you to know that he loves your blog and visits it often. You're pretty much over his head, as you probably have guessed by now. He can't even figure out your comment mechanism, much less make an actual comment. But he visits there regularly. (Truth! :) )
@Debbie-Ummm...Max is not really that deeply into religion, except for occasionally praying over pregnancy test kits, so he is relying this answer directly from the vicar:
Dear (Miss/Ms/Mrs. Debbie:
Thank you for your question. Vicar Ezra's parish covers almost have of the entire outback. So we usually hear as many as 4 to 7 confessions weekly. In spite of this workload, we have managed to keep up. We do this by extending the hours right up to 9 pm. We find only Thursday is necessary. Also Debbie (may I call you Debbie? Or do you prefer "fruitcake"?) you would probably be surprised at how few People in Florida are Church of England, and even more surprised at how few of THEM travel regularly to the Australian Outback for confession. But probably make a good point. To someone who happens to be insane. Thank you for your interest in this important matter.
@Canucklehead-Exactly. What indeed is to be said? Of course, then you went right ahead and said something, didn't you? Ummmm, did you think we gave out meme coupons for commenting? We don't. In fact we execute taggers now. Thank you for stopping by.
Somethings are best left unsaid, therefore from this moment forward that will be any mention of the vicar in my vocabulary.
ReplyDelete(Few members of the Church Of England here in Florida, indeed. Seems someone showed his arse!)
Angelika, since no-one has answered (as far as I can see), a dressing made of oil and vinegar is called either vinaigrette or French dressing.
ReplyDeleteI've just popped in to drop off your brownie points Max - or would you like a biscuit? I'm very impressed you know.
ReplyDeleteEzra Likely?
ReplyDeleteA religious man, who fights pornography and remains a virgin at the age of 77?
And he is descended from my glorious self?
Heavens, how far from the tree this particular apple fell!
Alison, sadly this is not Max's post. I know quite a lot about cows, though--if you have the time to read the current post on Jack. :) And may I still have the points? No? :(
ReplyDelete@Lord-Greeting, m'lord! welcome to my humble web-log!
ReplyDeleteYes indeed, I was astounded at the amazing--almost unbelievable--coincidence myself. What are the odds? Well, at least we now know that His Lordship must have gotten into some sort of trouble with the law between 1857 and 1861 which would have caused his removal to Australia. But of course, you know what that trouble was, most probably, no?
And, if Candy Girl has her way with him, Max strongly suspects that the religious fruit of m'lord's hearty loins will not die a virgin after all. That story remains to unfold...
@Debbie-Yes, hypnotic one, Max agrees the vicar is indeed a dumb bastard. Max may be somewhat prejudiced in the matter, since the vicar and his slimeball friends also tried to off the harmless little doggie yesterday and steal his blog out from under him. Dumb bastard indeed, who, after proper breeding by Candy Girl, will meet an unfortunate demise, I fear. Perhaps that demise and his breeding may occur at the same time. One never knows, blonde one.
ReplyDeleteIn defense of said dumb bastard--as distasteful as this is to Max--the vicar was primarily pointing out that few Floridians of that religious faith make the weekly trip to the Australian Outback for him to hear their confessions.
I find that mesmerizing indeed.
Perhaps it is the attitude of said unnamed person that prevents such trips. I have clients who travel the world to see me, whenever I suggest...
ReplyDelete@Debbie-But how can they resist? You have them under your spell! :)
ReplyDelete(The old Max would have replied: Debbie, you are so full of yourself, you are about to explode all over everything. Unload it. Now.)
Isn't the new Max so much easier to live with, albeit less interesting?
Did I tell you today yet how lovely you are? And how behind in my correspondence I am? Do you forgive me? I am working my little claws to the bone. Honest. Claws don't have bones. But you understand.. :)
"(The old Max would have replied: Debbie, you are so full of yourself, you are about to explode all over everything. Unload it. Now.)"
ReplyDeleteThe pendulum swings from one extreme to the other, until it finally finds a gentle, even pace, steady, flowing, even and less full of crap than what you are trying to feed me as the "new" Max.