So I was in the shop restocking the cigarettes and thinking about what a talentless arsehole Frankie Cocozza is when I hear somebody go, “hello”. I turn and see an absolute bell-end wearing mad inside-out clothes and carrying one of those Chris Eubank sticks, and he’s wearing sunglasses, in November. Inside!
A popstar, I think, professionally concealing my distain. I fucking hate popstars because my wife once left me for one. Well, he had a couple of CDs out, hardly a pop star. He’d burnt them himself.
“Yes?” I ask politely because that’s the way I’ve been trained.
“Fairy Power Spray,” he goes.
“What about it?”
“Do you have it?”
No, I think, sarcastically. “Yeah,” (it’s a big seller) and I point to the aisle with the detergents.
The guy just stands there staring at me for ages and then kind of laughs and goes, “Well, could you get it for me?”
I’m fucking boiling now. Just because I work in a Spar doesn’t mean I’m a chump. I’m thinking, what did this guy’s last slave die of? You know?
I ask him what his last slave died of and he goes, with a booming voice, “not getting my Fairy Power Spray!” and then he laughs long and hard.
That was it, I jumped over the counter to kick twelve shades of popstar shit out of him. To expel the week’s pent up frustrations, but I land on something that yelps and it’s a massive golden retriever and I think I’ve killed it. I landed on its throat and its head is flailing around and it’s making a gagging noise. It was definitely dying. It had stupid straps all over it. Dressing yourself like a twat is one thing, doing it to an animal though… Still, I’ve really hurt this fucking dog.
The guy starts screaming and I’m in a bit of a panic so I drag the dog out of the shop by its front paws and the man comes along with it going, “heel! What’s a matter Gordon, heel!” and I get them outside and tell them they’re both barred and I’m shaking and I’m hoping the dog doesn’t die.
From back behind the counter I see some people helping this guy and his dog. The poilce turn up and come in and ask me if a blind guy was in the shop earlier. And then I realized the guy was blind and probably not even a popstar. I said no, and now they’re looking at CCTV footage. My only hope is a catastropic series of police blunders. I can’t count on that. It was an accident though.