I know. Inconceivable. But try.
If this were the case, I would be a woman on the brink of the darkest oblivion, as a great challenge has been presented to me. The devil is attempting to contact me via the Southwark Street branch of Marks & Spencer. Specifically, he has placed his sign among the free plastic forks. Look upon it, if you are strong enough, and regard how his horns can be seen in the prongs:
Compare, if you will, the other forks in the flock.
What evils would he have me commit in the church of Marks & Spencer?
Must I lick every individual roll in the fresh bakery area and put them all back on the display?
Use my credit card and get cash back when there is a very long queue and I'm only spending 17p on a banana?
Plunge my idle hands into the bins of crisps and scrunch them all up into tiny crumbs?
Switch around some of the special offer stickers so that exactly the meat and fish products I like are included in the 3 for £10 promotion?
Furtively open a tub of chocolate cornflake mini bites in the shop, eat a couple, put the lid back on and walk away?
Of course, those things would never happen. Apart from, like, the second one. And maybe the third and the fourth. And, if I'm honest, I've thought about the fifth one A LOT.
Because, as you all know, I am morally unimpeachable. Utterly upright. Powerfully principled. An air-puncher. A high-fiver. A winner.
So that's OK then.
7 comments:
I succumb to the baskets of fresh Apricots, what with their soft furry sensuousness, and their dribbly juice oozing from my mouth after just having popped another one in. I try and balance out the deficit in one basket, by raiding from the others, while quietly trying to hide the stones in my pockets.
Oh, dear. I now have a compulsion to go out and squish crisps in shops. Why restrict oneself to M&S?
I fear no good may come of this....
Once I bought some Pringles from Sainsburys in Camden. I got home. I opened the Pringles. Or rather, I reopened the Pringles. For it turned out that somebody (SOMEBODY) had already done so, eaten half the packet, and put them back on the shelf. I think this was the moment when I finally realised that the world was full of utter bastards.
It wasn't me, I swear.
I never thought about squishing the crisps to bits before, but now it's ALL I'll be able to think about when I go in!
In M&S The Devil bids me try on ALL the shoes in my size and then put them back on the wrong shelf.
Ali x
alternatively you could just take my children who would be sure to do all of that and more. They have a knack for the fiendish.
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