So there I was in the wine aisle of Safeways, mulling over whether to buy a Margaux or not when a trolley crashed into my side, pushed by this young lad, probably about eight or nine with mop of blond hair and the most malicious grin I've ever seen.
His mother rushed over to apologise, and turned to remonstrate with her son, she'd merely placed a hand on his shoulder and the kid opened his mouth and fucking screamed.
"DON'T HIT ME AGAIN MUMMY! STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING ME! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HT ME? STOP IT MUMMY!"
I was a little gobsmacked, and more than a bit appalled, so it seemed natural justice when the kid tried running past me later on, and I stuck out a foot and sent the little fucker flying into a stack of tins before walking away, whistling.
In case you were wondering, I bought a St Emilion instead.
His mother rushed over to apologise, and turned to remonstrate with her son, she'd merely placed a hand on his shoulder and the kid opened his mouth and fucking screamed.
"DON'T HIT ME AGAIN MUMMY! STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING ME! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HT ME? STOP IT MUMMY!"
I was a little gobsmacked, and more than a bit appalled, so it seemed natural justice when the kid tried running past me later on, and I stuck out a foot and sent the little fucker flying into a stack of tins before walking away, whistling.
In case you were wondering, I bought a St Emilion instead.
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