Saturday, July 27, 2013

Let’s talk about sex –

Yesterday I had a flash of some titties attached to a rather old biddie.

Man, I would have run a mile but I was loaded down with four pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts and a small cooking pot.  I was in a charity shop. I love charity shops.

Unlike the UK, where every second High Street shop is flogging second hand goods to help feed the peasants in the ‘developing world’, (developing into tyrant controlled rampant corruption and let westerners feed and clothe the peasants at their expense because we use any dosh we can steal to shoot the peasants if they get a bit uppity); here in Germany they are rather few and far between.

But in this one horse town (less the horse) they have one. The opening hours are rather erratic but I managed to catch them yesterday. Well, what a surprise. I thought I had wandered into Louis Vuitton or a Hugo Boss store.

I had a good sniff around the jeans department. The haberdashery section was a little empty but I did spot a neat pot I needed, complete with lid. Loaded down I thought I should try the stuff on. The pot fitted my head perfectly, although I did struggle to see.

Feeling my way around, I found the ‘try them on’ closet and yanked the curtain back. And there they were, hanging down almost to the floor. What a sight for sore eyes.

I hastily mumbled an apology and closed the curtain sharpish whilst wondering if I should take the pot off my head and throw up in it.

So eventually I try on the clothes. Now it is time to pay. I am asked if I have a voucher. It seems poor people get a discount if they have a piece of paper from the council to vouch they are poor. I arrived on a bicycle that wants to kill me, that is surly vouching enough that I am poor.

‘If you have a voucher, you are entitled to buy some of our food.’

Well I had had a quick look in the food section but it was rather empty. There must be some real hungry poor peasants in this town and no sign of a few crates of beer.

I told the lady at the till that whilst I struggled to survive, I had no voucher. I then switched my body language into the ‘woe is me’ mode. It works a treat.

I wander out the store and give the bike a bit of a kick to tell it to behave itself. I have three pairs of jeans, one of them a Wrangler and one a Levi, the other a no name. All beautifully washed and ironed and looking like new. The shorts are perfect too.

It took a while to get the pot off my head but eventually all was stuffed into my rucksack and a shopping bag on the carrier rack.

I am well pleased. Even my wallet heaved a sigh of relief – total cost for the lot - Euro 10…

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