Wednesday, 3 February 2010

Newsagents: helping me on my way to obesity

It certainly wasn't the first time I've been aided in lady-business by a middle-aged Geordie of a stranger. However, much like the aforementioned, I certainly did not expect such a dialogue when guiltily scooting into the cosy newsagents to buy a Dairy Milk yesterday afternoon after some gallery action.
The Geordie-Asian accent combo is probably one of my favourites. However, this sage of advice and salesmanship had thrown in a little twang of Jamaican, just to make it really special. To keep things short, Bowlface is going to turn temporarily to scriptwriting:
Bowlface (B): peruses confectionery selection. Notices an absence of normal, 6-block Dairy Milk Bars and becomes a little distressed. Um, excuse me, do you have any normal sized Dairy Milk bars?
Newsagent (N): No, but we do have these big bars for 99p, which is really great value for money when the small ones cost 65.
B: Well, yes, the value is undeniable. However, I only want a small one.
N: adopts a Jamaican patois. The lady deserve some chocolate!
B: Evidently. However, not quite that much...
N: But you can eat a little now, and put half in the fridge?
[both N and B look at each other, B looking increasingly guilty, until a moment of dawning revelation]
N: You'll eat it all at once, won't you?
B: Yes.
N: Turning to a horribly-reminiscent GCSE Maths-style strategy of selling. But a chunk this size would normally cost 65p, so you're getting all the rest for about 25p.
B: Hands over a quid. Thanks. See you later.

If it wasn't bad enough to be seen maniacally scoffing one acceptable hand-sized Dairy Milk bar all the way through town, trying to subtly snap little bits off a giant bar whilst on the go was considerably more difficult. Thank God for the many and varied pockets of a Barbour Jacket. Needless to say that a mere seven squares remained by the time I'd reached my lecture theatre.

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