Thursday 24 November 2011


Dear nice man on the checkout at Moore Wilsons,

Thank you for your infinite patience when I ended up in your lane tonight. I imagine you’ve done something terrible to have earned such a karmic arse kicking.

First there was the bottle of Thai fish sauce I managed to spill all over the place. The answer to how long it will take to get the nasty smell out of your shirt is, I fear, never. You also tried not to look angry when a lengthy rummage in my handbag produced several used tissues, pens, receipts, brochures for film festivals long past and hair ties; everything, in fact, but my wallet.

You seem like a terribly nice chap and I promise never to darken your checkout again.


Shazzy the Clumsy

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