Life in the fast lane

Asda have a service where you can build your own pizza. It is a bit like Build-A-Bear but with more choice and generally less fur. You can easily spot the highly skilled pizza technicians due their tightly woven hairnets that keep their oversized brains in place. I usually get a woman who makes Jack Dee at a funeral look happy, or her mate who is best described as something like Mr T’s sister, who’s no nonsense “Quit your jibber jabber fool, and tell what toppings u need” customer service makes every visit a pleasure. If this wasn’t stressful enough, I then have to run the gauntlet of those self service tills which today was the premiere Fast Lane (about 20 items or less) special. Ahead of me a colourful character who was sharing the Asda shopping experience with a friend via her mobile phone, giving a blow by blow account of all the wondrous goodies that made up this week’s shop which I would guess was just shy of about fifty items or less. After her, a baldy bloke whose pate was so polished that head lice could only skate on it stepped up to plate and after a few moments of scanning and button pushing summoned the assistant who walked off and eventually came back with a till roll. As she opened the front of the machine a vital piece of metal immediately fell out and blind panic ensued as Fast Lane operatives sprung into action looking intently at the small metallic object and taking it in turns to guess its origin. Eventually as I admired my newly grown ‘fast lane’ beard in the bloke in front’s shiny head it was decided that it couldn’t serve any real purpose and should be placed on top of the machine. With that, the front was slammed shut and normal service was resumed.


Asda, Chosen by me? MY ARSE!