Shopping- sales or no sales!

God I hate ‘shopping’, which is probably why my wife rarely if ever gets me to trail alongside her whilst she digs, rummages and examines various items of consumer deliverance.

It remains an enduring mystery to me ( and indeed, yet another example of female dominance and superiority) why some men seem to tolerate, if not actually enjoy, this exercise in female obsession and till-ringing irrelevance.

Have you seen them, the men that is? They stand around looking as if they have just been propositioned by some big busted tart ready to remind them that life without sex is rather dull after all, that they do have a right to choose and finally that the world will not stop turning if Tesco’s and M&S’s go bust.

They look vacant but ever hopeful, carrier bags at the ready, whilst the wife deliberates, prods and gestures  in every direction but theirs, and God forbid if they decide to fancy a new shirt. Not without wifely approval you fool!

And women want more ‘equality’ ?! Jesus. Stand up all you brow-beaten men, burn your jock straps and show ’em who’s boss. Dump the carrier bags,hatch-back shopping malls and mobile phone tyranny, tell ’em to bugger off and go and get plastered in the nearest pub is my advice. Be MEN and never look a till in the eyes again (or a baby changing room for that matter) —-at least not when the missus is about.

For the record, I have never in my life asked for a woman’s opinion on what I should wear or what item of clothing suits me. From my experience their sartorial acumen where men are concerned is appalling. I worked in John Collier’s once, remember ‘The window to watch!?’ – damn I’m really showing my age now aren’t I –  anyway, I shall never forget how all these emasculated men would come in, eyes examining their shoes and not saying a word, while their wives chose their suits for them and even their bloody underpants!

The forerunners of ‘feminised’ male kind perhaps? God help us, men that is – and I don’t put wax on my hair or carry baby milk in my arse pocket either!

JR

PS If any man out there has ever known a woman go into a supermarket for a pint of milk, and come out with a pint of milk and nothing else, do let me know.

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