A Trip To Tesco

Like most of my expeditions, it started in my flat.


Ah, my trusty new Creative Zen. Have I ever told you the story of how I got it? Yes, see the Long March.


I leave my flat, but leaving a flat isn't like leaving a house. I am still indoors.


Down, down, down. Going down.


My body is plunged into darkness as I walk out into my street.


The Musuem. A pretty sight at night.


Jesus, not another musuem. What's that circle thing? It can't be the sun, because that's bloody huge.


I'm sure there's a sexy, sexy Superman joke to be made here, but won't be making it. Why does this sign have a German accent?


Anyway, this speed camera is new. It certainly wasn't there yesterday.


I felt a bit bad, because this car park was so keen to welcome me, but I was only passing by. I'm 6' 3", it would have never worked.


Is there anything sadder than a lone traffic cone?


I arrive at Tesco, but this door is not for customers. I wouldn't dare try to use it.


I spot a cressling* of traffic cones. That lone one must have wandered off to die. Very noble.


Quite literally a train to nowhere. It doesn't even have a track to run on.


I only want a couple of things, so I might as well just get a basket.


So great is my knowledge of this supermarket that find the milk straight away. Imagine how many cows they had to wank to get all of this milk.


Basket Check #1


Oh my, a couple shopping at one in the morning. Have I interrupted their twisted, sick sex game?


Until Tesco decided to start stocking Warburton's Danish, I am forced to buy this.


Basket Check #2


An offer that is too good to turn down.


Basket Check #3


What a stupid place to keep a pile of cardboard.


No reduced items for me. Don't they know I'm a poor, poor student?


Only the worst sausages are good enough for me.


Is there honestly another feeling quite like looking at a chocolate stand?


Basket Check #4


There were no tills open. Lazy bastards. Here I am scanning my sausage. If that isn't a euphemism for checking one's penis for a cancerous lump, I don't know what is.


A nice bit of business.


What's that up in the sky? It's only the bloody moon. What are you doing here at this time of night?


No time to chat, sorry, got to get my shopping home.


Better put a different song on. Regina Spektor - Aching To Pupate. Lovely.


In case you're wondering which Tesco I shopped at, here is a sign. Come down, buy some eggs and shit, then you can say that you shop in the same place as me.


No, not Ok, Left? Look Left.


Who is this guy trying to kid? We all know it's you, Orlando.


I pass a sign, but only see it from behind. What does it mean by forest? I see a couple of trees, but certainly no forest.


Oh no, it's you again. Have you come to kill me, Moon?


The answer was yes. He killed me. I am dead.




*The correct term for a group of traffic cones.