Sainsburys insulting your intelligence

I popped into their mega sized store in Coventry recently and trundled along to the coffee aisle to see if there were any special offers to tempt me when I spotted that not only were there not any ………

“Buy two for only £6”

Or any such similar tempters but instead I espied a host of little shelf labels proudly gloating that they were the same price as Tescos.  Now I don’t know about you but I have always found this form of self congratulatory preening irritating to say the least.

You expect it from school children.  The teacher congratulates the slow child in class for having nearly bust a blood vessel in order to get most of their times table out in nearly the right order, when the brainy but lazy one at the back petulantly moans and points out that they too got that many right. 

However we see an awful lot of this in marketing today, only yesterday a bus wobbled past me in town, its side yelling at me that “So & So’s Jewellery  Store Would Match Any Price Anywhere Including The Internet”

Now I like a bargain as much as the next person, but this is not better than, this is the same as!

What these companies are doing is to get us the customers to undertake their market research for them.  They can’t be bothered to find out what prices their competitors are charging so they get you to do it for them.  If you can’t be bothered then they’ll begrudgingly charge you over the odds.  If you do take the time and trouble they graciously come down to the same price that you could have gotten it for when you were in the other shop down the road half an hour ago. Well Whoopee Doo!!!

We can see what’s in it for them, they stand a chance of selling their goods either at an inflated price or at the going rate without having to wear out their own shoe leather trudging around conducting their own retail intelligence.  But, what’s in it for me and you?  Umm ….. nothing really, you could have still have gotten at the same price earlier on. Cheeky bastards!

What Sainsburys were doing is parallel to the “You tell us how cheap we should be…” as it was saying “On this particular occassion we can match the others price.” But it’s like politicians and children, you quickly learn to listen to what they are not saying in order to get the bigger picture.

The politician that says “We have saved £XX K from the defence budget is admitting they haven’t supplied our fighting soldiers with enough equipment to protect their sorry arses whilst fighting some other fuckers war over in Kyzakibolloxstan.  The child that simperingly snuggles up to you and slowly sighs that they have cleared up all the mess in the kitchen for you, is really telling you they just broke the casserole dish given to you as a wedding present by Aunt Matilda.

So there I was amongst Sainsburys coffee shelves, joyfully admiring their pride at being as generous as Tesco, when I was politely interrupted by a member of staff who enquired if I needed any help.

“Do you need any help?” She interrupted.

“Well……….” I hesitated, I had issues here and did’nt want to appear rude to the nice lady who was merely doing her job and as such was obviously many steps removed from the jumped up eager young graduate in Head Office Marketing who had decide it would be a super idea to waste some of the marketing budget by gloating that Sainsburys were proud to have managed to be as good as Tescos.

“You see…” I tried again. “I notice your prices are as good as Tescos, but what I want is better than Tescos, if only by a penny, then I can see something in it for me.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” She sympathised with me. “When I was told to stick those on the shelves I also felt it was an insult, after all I too am a shopper, and I felt iritated by it.  After all, these stickers weren’t free, they cost Sainsburys to have them made in the first place.”

We both agreed there wasn’t much evidence of joined up thinking going on here.  I proclaimed then and there to go to Tescos and check this out, and if it turned out to be true I would then buy my coffee from them and reward their initiative over prices by patronising their coffee coffers!

But it got worse, as I slowly ambled away I read another shelf sticker, this one yelled at me that I could buy some packet of undesirable nonsense for 3np less than Tesco.  You would be forgiven for thinking this was exactly what i wanted to see, evidence of a benefit to me.

However I was now forced to conclude a completely different scenario was evident.  One one side of me was a child pointing out that coffee was the same price as Tesco, and on my right was a politician proudly proclaiming that Sainsburys were selling Kellogs Wheaty Bang cheaper than Tesco.

I lifted the veil of fog and gazed at all of the other items that festooned the shelves, and wondered how they compared to Tesco.  It didn’t take me long to realise that if they sat in neither the same price as nor were they cheaper than, then that left only one comparison to be made, surely?

I wrote to Sainsburys ask them why, by inference, they were joyfully charging more than Tesco for most of their produce.

Dear Sainsbury’s

 

I write to congratulate you on your recent marketing initiative in the coffee department.

I (until this weekend) shop at the Canley superstore in Coventry.

 

This weekend I was enthralled to notice little signs excitedly informing that certain brands of instant coffee were…

 

Same Price as Tesco’s

 

My initial response was to think : –

“Are you insulting my intelligence? What I want is cheaper than Tesco not same price!”

 

In fact if you hadn’t wasted the money having little signs printed up boasting that Tesco’s had taken the initiative to set the price and all you had managed was to jump on their coat tails and equal it, then the chances are you could have afforded to have knocked a penny off and then truly had something to blow your trumpet about.

 

However, having given this a tiny bit more thought, I feel I should apologise for having been so uncharitable towards you in my thought processes.

 

For if I casually examine the evidence in the whole and not restrict myself to merely the joys of the coffee aisle, I realise that the picture is in fact much larger and needs to be taken into consideration. To wit: –

 

You put up signs when you offer something from your bounteous shelves that you have priced lower than Tesco, likewise if it is the same price as Tesco.

Therefore it stands to reason that everything on your shelves that does not proudly sport a self congratulatory ticket must be more expensive than Tesco.

Even if I ignore your own brand items then it still leaves by far the majority of your inventory in that category.

 

Your Marketing Department is exceptionally honest, and I thank them for persuading me to review my shopping options.  For they speak the truth, Tesco do ask the same price for their coffee, and I bought it from them as they had several items that were cheaper than you and they gave me a free reusable canvas type bag to put it all in.

 

You might like to give them a try.

 

It took two days before I got a reply…………..

 

Dear Mr Clapham

 

Thank you for your email.  I am sorry that you are disappointed that we have been comparing our product prices to those of Tesco’s.  I can understand your concern.

 

Our customers’ feedback is very important to us.  We used this labelling system as a way of showing our customers that our prices either match or better those of one of our competitor’s.  However, this has caused a negative response from some of our customers.  Therefore, we have taken the decision to remove the shelf edge labels as of Tuesday, 15^th April, 2008.  Please accept my personal apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused you.

 

Your email also mentions that you got a free canvas bag when you shopped in Tesco’s recently.  We first launched our ‘Make the difference’ days one year ago by giving away ‘Bags for life’ to encourage customers to switch to reusable bags.  Last year, on our Bag for life ‘Make the difference’ days, we gave away over 15 million Bags for life.  Since our first ‘Make the difference’ day in April 2007 we have reduced the amount of orange plastic bags we give away by 100 million.  That’s 875 tonnes of plastic we have prevented going to landfill and enough bags to go around the world at least once.

 

Thank you once again for contacting us with your views.  I hope that your future experiences with Sainsbury’s are to your satisfaction.

 

Kind regards

 

Tracy Green
Customer Manager

 

 

 

Now what was that all about?

She admits that others have criticised them for this stance and consequently they have decided to remove them, but misses that the date she says they would have ditched the signs predates when I said I saw them. 

She apologises … even personally for my disappointment and understands why I felt that way …Eh? was that my letter she was answering?  I think not!

This smacks of “send the usual we care what our customers say letter, apologise and tack on the bit about our bags”

So I wrote back.

Dear Tracy

Thank you for your prompt reply. 

However I am confused as to how you understood me to “be disappointed that we have been comparing our product prices to those of Tesco’s” Actually I was congratulating your marketing department on making me aware how many of your items fit into neither the “Same as Tesco’s let alone the better than Tesco’s” price range, so therefore they must be worse than Tesco’s.  Very honourable I thought.

 

Why do you understand my concern, when I am not concerned at all?  Why do you feel the need to personally apologise for any convenience, when I clearly haven’t been inconvenienced.

I suggest you reread my original letter and understand what I said and not try and change its meaning in order to allow you to trundle out the stock phrases you learnt on your “How to answer letters from customers training courses.”

 

At the end of the day if the general opinion is

“OOPS! We didn’t think deeply enough about that one did we? …. Then so be it, it’s not a problem, we’re all human.

 

Never mind, thanks awfully for the information about your orange plastic bags, that’s a super effort, well done.  You should have got some TV coverage of all those bags going around the world once, it must have been quite a sight!

 

Hope your weather is as nice as ours, although it is a bit chilly if you don’t keep out of the wind.

 

Best Regards

 ps …..Edited to correct an error … OOPS! I didn’t think deeply enough about before I sent it.

 

 

It’s now two weeks since I sent my reply and I haven’t heard a word from Kind Regards Tracy Green, I do hope she is ok, she might be off sick …. perhaps.

 

 

 

 

What’s my sex life got to do with The dole…??

Lucky me, I was given the opportunity to go on the dole recently for a couple of weeks.

During my interview with them they wanted to know why I was opting to work for only three days a week.

Of course the answer was because of my mental health issues and the medication I take which tends to bollocks up my body clock, energy and concentration span.

The next question however truly floored me.

So Mr C……… are you often bed-ridden?

Well, before I had taken time to ponder the impertinence of such a question, I realised I had already answered.

“It does happen of course, although I have to admit I can be a bit partial to a dollop of spontaneity over the kitchen table”

Afterwards I did wonder what kind of work they were going to shovel my way? …….. none as it happens!

 

Do I drink a lot? With shaky hands like these I spill most of it!

Me and doctors? Well ….. it’s a lot like last year’s tomato plants and The Horse Head Nebulae, different parts of space and time you see?  Differing needs, communication principles and a staggeringly opposed view of what each other actually is. 

Having said that, there is always the exception, and I’d just like to say three hurrahs to Moira Hill (doctor in Coventry) who actually understands mental health issues and finds the time to talk to you about them and most importantly she also finds the time to listen to you when you answer. 

However her skills and attitude, unfortunately are not contagious, for instead of turning left into her consulting room, if you were to draw a much shorter straw and end up turning right somewhere down that corridor you may well experience one of her colleagues. 

I did once, youngish chap, avoids eye contact, answers the question “and how are you doctor?” with “what can I do for you?”  I told him that I had (foolishly as it turned out) decided to stop taking my anti-depressants and anti-psychotics with immediate effect and toot-sweet ….

If that was ok with him? 

Again with no eye contact or even reference to my case notes he shrugged his shoulders and muttered something that sounded like

“ Hmm …You’re …. Adult …. Make decisions …… save costs …. Better not to take if ……anything else you want? ” 

With great glee at having his blessings I departed. It didn’t occur to me that I might have enjoyed a better balance of advice on reflection; mainly as he wouldn’t have even known if I’d been stark naked and sporting two heads.

I’d heard what I wanted so I was off.   It was six weeks later that Dr Hill called in the Crisis Home Resolution Team who gently eased me down off the ceiling and back onto medication. 

However it works both ways, I have also been guilty of talking the biggest bucket of bollocks to doctors in the past.

The incident I remember most must have been over twenty years ago.I was a publican in London.  Now I accept that a lot of people who run pubs do so because they enjoy alcohol to the degree that being surrounded by it is comforting, but that was not me, I did it because I was a business man, and believed that selling booze was easy, long hours but easy.

I had been to the doc’s a few times with aches, pains and the usual winter wheezes, any of which may cause a doctor to investigate how much giggle juice I was consuming, but on this occasion I had a large painful lump on my ear lobe.  The conversation went something like this: –

*“Hello doc I’ve got this large painful lump on my ear lobe”

-“Yes that does look painful, let’s just look at your records and …. AH! I see you’re a publican, what are your drinking habits like?” 

*“What? It’s me ear lobe, bloody painful it is.”

-“So are you aware that your drinking habits are unhealthy perhaps?” 

*“Unhealthy? I just pour it into a glass or a cup, put it to my mouth and tilt, doesn’t everyone? Now about my ear ……”

-“Do you think you have a drink problem?” 

*“A drink problem? How could I have a drink  problem? I live above a pub.  Every morning I come down and there’s gallons of the stuff”

-“Hmm, I see do you feel like a drink now? 

*“Well that’s very kind of you doc but it’s far too early for me, however if you feel the need go ahead don’t be shy on my behalf.”

-“How long have you noticed your drinking?” 

*“I guess since I was six foot, what the hell has this got to do with my ear lobe?”

-“Denial is the biggest problem, you can’t do anything about it until you admit you have a problem.” 

*“It’s you that has a problem mate, my ear is painful but at least I can still use it to listen, you seem to have not only lost that ability but are convinced I’ve got cirrhosis of the ear lobe.”  

At this point I left, went home and stabbed my swollen ear until the gooey nasty came out, it hurt like hell but didn’t infuriate me as much as diagnosis by curriculum vitae did. 

Doctor Moira Hill ………. YOU ROCK!

Can you spare some change Mister….?

  It’s true what they say “Change Doesn’t Happen Overnight”. 

In fact I’d go further to say that any change that did happen in such a way probably wouldn’t have much of a life span anyhow.  Ask A. Hitler esq. about his thousand year Third Reich or Clive Sinclair how many millions of C5 electric cars he sold? 

Of course it’s not always because the idea itself was a bummer, it’s sometimes because custom and practice closes our minds to the opportunities presented or alternatively opens our minds to the reality of looking a prat in public.

How many of us remember the story of the record company that turned down The Beatles because they were scruffy and electric guitars had no future?  Whilst I for one still think that people walking around with a Blue Tooth gadget stuck in their ear look as if they should be on their way to a Star Trek convention. 

To refocus public opinion or society’s views on something sensible, regardless of how radical it may be seems to take a generation to happen.  Then when it has been accepted it seems as if it had never been any other way.

When I was a child every grown up smoked.  They did it in the street in shops at home even on the TV.  Now it’s banned in public buildings (quite right too).  What a massive step change! Interestingly though because of this very last addition to the law, we’re now seeing smokers walking down the street puffing away, and doesn’t it look odd?

Drink driving has finally become socially unacceptable, twenty years ago those caught were still trying to argue the toss with plod.  Although the figures are still high I’m told those guilty are less defensive now about their behaviour.

Most drivers are still up in arms over the massive introduction of speed cameras and the income they are creating.  So I guess in another generation’s time every one will be tootling around at the right speed, wondering what all the fuss was about.

When compulsory wearing of seat belts in the front of a car (never mind in the back) was floated there was total outcry. 

“If I want to catapult myself head first through my own windscreen and spend the rest of my life dribbling and saying Num Num in the corner whilst tugging at the hem of my dressing gown, then I should bloody well be allowed to!” 

One bloke I know in Derby even went to the trouble of having a cardigan knitted in a fetching beige colour with a diagonal black stripe across the chest so it looked as if he was wearing a seat belt!  I remember asking him if he’d considered having an overcoat made in the shape of a coffin, he squared himself up set his jaw and muttered that he might ….. if he wanted to … so there!

Today, however, if someone under the age of 25 climbs into your car they panic if you put the key in the ignition before they’ve located the end of the belt. 

Peanuts!

KP used to make a tiny bag that sold for 2d. (real money) just big enough to put in your child’s lunch box.  Peanuts were encouraged they are cheap, full of protein and rich in fibre.Try offering nuts to anyone under 25, the expression on their face would indicate that you’d just suggested they should perform an indecent act with their Great Aunt Gladys. 

“I can’t stand them!” They’ll tell you.

Truth is they’ve never tried one.  The fear of a child choking on a nut led society to convince children that gobbling a handful of peanuts was as acceptable as sucking a dog turd.

If you really want to go for the jackpot then thrust an open packet of the best salted variety under their nose as they climb into the back of your car just after you’ve hidden the seat belt and are revving the engine!  I promise they’ll never ask you again if you are available to just run them over to their friend’s house 30 miles away.  Plus you will enjoy the advantage of all their friends looking at you in a most suspicious manner, because word will get round very quickly, that you are so weird. 

Don’t panic though for every cloud has a silver lining! And this one is pure gold, yes sir-reee …… 24 karat, nickel plated, double hinged, cast iron riveted GOLD!!!!It’s name? ……….. Sell by Date.

All hail the great benefactor who gave us sell by dates.  Sometimes this treasure goes by the name of Best Before it matters not a jot, a rose by any other name and all that jazz.

So how does this work then? 

Well you can thank the retail trade’s fixation about being sued for poisoning their customers for this little beauty.

This will enable you to stop the free loading youth of today from robbing you blind. They’ll stop visiting at meal times, or grunting a Neanderthal greeting at you as they pillage your fridge at any other time.

All this whilst clearing the way for you to take full advantage of the “cheap shelf” at Sainsbury’s To Boot!!!! 

Anyone born after 1980 has been programmed that food magically becomes deadly poison two seconds after the date on the package expires. 

I urge you to do nothing to educate them otherwise. 

We, who know different have learnt the hard way, they must do the same.  

We have learnt to check food by looking at it, sniffing it, sticking a finger in it and carefully tasting it before deciding that green, hairy yoghurt with enough whiff to bend glass and a flavour capable of recharging car batteries has probably passed it.   

The date doesn’t come into it, it never did, it never will. 

If the manufacturers could predicate the date of expiry so accurately they wouldn’t be making yoghurt they’d be raking it in selling life insurance …. or coffins!

But don’t tell the youngsters, they carefully examine the date code on your box of Belgian chocs and whine that they expire at the weekend; do you think they’ll be alright?  

There’s no need to lie though, confidently affirm that they’ll be fine. State that you’ve been eating stuff all your life that’s been on the verge of going out of date.

They’ll slowly look you up and down, the expression on their faces none too complimentary, but they’ll return your chocs unmolested. 

It’s even worth investing in a gummed label printer and running off your own “Best Before Tomorrow” Stickers.  Shove them on everything you’ve got, you’ll save a fortune so you will!

I know someone who plastered one on the remote control and regained possession of his TV. But it doesn’t end there; don’t forget the bargain shelves in Sainsbury’s.  

You may have to fight your way through the aisles festooned with young families stocking up on frozen pizzas, pre-packed shepherd pies and chicken curries all cleverly conjured out of preformed unrecognisable chunks of something, but it’s worth the effort. 

For out the back near the dog food you’ll find the stand that every OAP dreams of. Stacked high are the dented tins and packs of scoff that no young person will ever venture near.  They might as well be sporting large day-glo labels showing a skull and cross bones, but they don’t need to for the tiny lettering showing a date three days hence is more than enough to keep the wrinklies happy and the future of this country resigned to eating stodge that bears as much resemblance to the photo on the packet as I do to the next winner of X Factor. 

I can find the “To Clear Shelf” in any supermarket blindfolded.  All you have to do is listen for aged voices complaining that all they can find is Fillet Steak and Scottish Salmon AGAIN! “I know it’s reduced down to only 10p a pound but I’ve been living off the stuff for months now” They’ll whine.“And the cat won’t even look at lobster any more!” They go on.

“How come we never see anything useful like bread, milk or Steradent on these cheap shelves?”  They plead. 

So you see when it comes to keeping every body happy nothing ever changes, except change itself …….. just not over night please!   

Help …. Confused by Technology

I can’t get this damned thing to work ………………. Doff was given a Scientific, Electronic, Wireless Weather Station for Christmas from her sister.

I’ve checked the batteries and they’re fine.  You have this screen thing with lots of options on it, which you put on the windowsill in the kitchen, and outside you nail this other gizmo where the squirrels can’t take it apart.

Obviously the “electronic wireless” bit means that they communicate with each other, and as they are both bleeping and flashing red lights at each other I can only assume that they are, but here’s the crunch……..

I’ve managed to get sunshine and maximum temperatures mode up on the screen in the kitchen, but outside it’s still bloody freezing and now it’s starting to rain.  Anybody any idea how long it takes to make any changes?  Or should I have dialed in my preferences so many hours before I wanted them?

Beginning to think this is a rip- off.

Children?…No thanks I used to go to school with them!

In the sixties and seventies, you often saw groups of people waving home made placards and protesting about something or other. Hardly happens at all now, mind you there were more strikes and industrial unrest in those days.Seems quiet on that front now. 

However I do remember a tall lanky geezer with a placard that used to amble up and down Oxford Street in London up until the eighties (Check out http://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/archive/exhibits/changing_faces/lives/lives2.htm)  He was quite well known, and think he even appeared on the opening credits to a TV programme. His sign said something about not eating peanuts or red meat as they caused lust.

The amount of money I wasted trying to force feed women peanuts and red meat! 

I decided at the time that he must have been funded by the peanut and red meat marketing board.  Turns out though that he might have been on to something as I recently read that high protein diets excite the libido, and that two food stuffs with the highest protein count by weight are……… wait for it ……… yup, peanuts and red meat. 

So obviously all those years back my force feeding the stuff on women must have been cancelled out by my personality and grotesque looks. 

Still all that latent lust must have been going somewhere, I can only imagine I was pumping up the tyres for some other lucky devil to hop on and have a ride.

Getting back to placards, I suddenly noticed the other week whilst driving around the city early in the morning that we have one person demonstrations going on. 

I’ve spotted a few elderly people waving large round boards stuck on poles imploring everybody to

STOP CHILDREN.

Although I applaud the sentiment, I do find the message a little vague. 

Stop them from doing what exactly?  Riding their bikes on pavements?  Swearing at the tops of their voices? 

As irritating as I do find them I’m not sure I would condone stopping them all together, although …..

hang on a minute …. I just need to think about ….. errrrrr ……no, definitely we shouldn’t just ban them completely after all I need them to be working to pay my pension in a few years.

Still these protestors seem to be well organised and quite methodical in their demonstrations so I guess they know what they’re on about.

It reminds me that the best piece of information I ever read on the subject was on the back of a box of matches. 

In capital letters it simply said: –

KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN

Top notch advice and all for 5p.

Last day of the year

Right well that’s Christmas over and done with for another nine and a half months!  I daren’t go near town now for fear of tripping over Easter eggs.

This year has been a different and educational season of good will to all men. I was in Comet yesterday looking for freeview tv boxes, but ended up looking at a bloke screaming at the staff and telling the manager to go F*+# himself because the battery operated clockwork onion boiler he’d bought his 8 year old daughter for Xmas hadn’t worked or something. 

It all came to a staggering halt when he screamed at the manager“My daughter didn’t get her main Christmas present, did your daughter get her main Christmas present?”To which the manager replied “No sir she didn’t, we are Muslim and don’t celebrate Christmas!”

At this point I decided that nothing on Freeview TV could compete with this and instead of paying out £40 for a top box, I’d just go for a stroll around the shops whenever I felt the need for a slice of top notch entertainment.

For five days from December 24th we were on the boat, we chugged our way up the Ashby Canal and got as far as the battlefield at Bosworth.  there are dedicated moorings from which you can climb down to “Richard’s Field”.

How amazing that King Richard III should be slain in a field that was also called Richard?  Any old how it turns out that this was the most important battle in the history of the Wars of the Roses if not the history of England itself.  How do I know this? Simple, there is a massive great notice there saying so. 

It goes on to describe how the Tudor Henry VII defeated the Pretender Richard and became king.  Don’t you love the way history is always written from the angle of the winner?

Henry VII defeated the pretender! Did he?

Seems Richard was already a crowned king and Henry Tudor fancied the job, still he won so he gets to record his version of the outcome I guess. 

Makes you wonder how history would sound different if certain moments had ended in another way.

Adolf Hitler frees Earth from a handful of despots and unites the people of the world under one benign government! 

Saint Jack the Ripper single handly re-focussed the morals of London’s loose women

Margaret Thatcher was a well balanced benign Prime Minister ……….

So the notice on the battlefield explains how Richard III (the Pretender) was the last English king to be slain in the field of battle and a large stone marks the very spot he fell, it also describes how his naked mud splattered body was strapped to a horse and dragged to Leicester  where it was on public display for two days (just across the road from Matalan and next to Subway).  Wow! this was heavy stuff full of drama and laden with poignant overtones.  We stood there drinking in the atmosphere, then with heavy heads we quietly walked along the path to the next information board. 

This one told us that ……….

“On 22 August 1485, in the heart of rural Leicestershire, two armies faced each other.   Neither was to know how in just a couple of hours the history of England was to change forever. And all in an unknown field somewhere near here perhaps”

EH??? …….. but we’d just been in a field down the road where the battle ended, we knew where it had happened.  I was all for phoning up English Heritage and letting them in on our discovery, surely they’d be delighted?

We carried along the pathway a quarter of a mile and came across another information board.  This one told us that….

“Just over half a millenium ago two mighty armies squared up to each other across a flat field.  Descriptions taken at the time compared to current surveys of Leicestershire suggest it might have been around here somewhere, perhaps over there near the horizon”  We stood together squinting at the line of trees  on the horizon, our backs towards the flagpole marking the spot where we knew Richard had allowed his naked muddy body to be carried off to Leicester Inner Ring Road.  The sign went on to say..

“Who knows, perhaps in future years as archeological  techniques advance we may be able to confirm this did actually happen and perhaps narrow it down to where, what do you think?”

What did we think? …………. What did we think????…………….. I’ll tell you what we thought, we thought it was obvious none of these historian chappies knew what the hell they were talking about, let alone actually natter to each other or even walk along the same path we were taking the trouble so to do!  That’s what we thought. 

Shaking our heads in disbelief at how misinformed these experts obviously were, we doubled back and approached Richard’s Field from a different angle.  So at the very end of our jolly trip round Leicestershire’s historical theme park we stumbled over the very first notice board that everybody else reads.  This one showed a map of the whole area with the never to be missed attractions clearly marked on it.  We were able to see that we had missed the top corner where lay the biggest shock of all.  In large red lettering there was a statement that merely said ……………

Richard’s Well

This was clearly a heritage centre designed by a committee.  We’d seen the exact spot where King Richard had fallen in battle then learned that it probably was in Leicestershire somewhere before reading that if it had happened then it might have been over there, but not here.  We were comforted to learn that our guess was as good as theirs and were even invited to say what we thought, as if we had been there in person.

Finally it turns out that it was all lies because he’s fine and up the top of the map.

No wonder our tourist industry is flagging the people in charge are agog with apathy….. on the edge of their seats with indifference I reckon.

Bargains for a couple of quid?… Car Boot Sale Yay!!!!!!

Do you remember when Car Boot Sales were worth going to?

Nowadays they just seem to be 60% sheer tat and 40% brand new tat!

I had hoped there would be a collectors’ fair or antique fair this close to Xmas, it’s rare to find something for my hobby now.  I collect old fashioned amusement machines, end of the pier stuff, they don’t often come up, but at collector’s fairs you stand a better chance than anywhere and at the very least you’ll find pre-decimal coins which I always need to run my old machines with.

But the papers were devoid of any useful looking events in the midlands, there was just one pre Christmas Car Boot Sale!

I hadn’t been near one of those since I used to let them onto my pub car park, but today I allowed myself to be persuaded into freezing my najjers off at this one, it was only a few miles away. We’d hadn’t been there a few minutes before Doff’s fingers turned white and the tips of my ears dropped off.I’d been struggling down a line of stalls gazing admiringly at the never to be repeated bargains ………..Toasted sandwich makers ……… rusty drill bits …….. packs of AA batteries you’ve never heard off……..1930’s American One Arm Bandit ……. old toys ……racks of clothes any charity shop would reject ………HANG ON !!!!

I trampled children under foot and bodily charged old people out of the way in order to retrace my steps back two tables.Yup, there was a pretty little slot machine a Groetchen Columbia perched on the end of a table.I decided to be wise and not show how keen I was. 

With subtle cunning I feigned interest in a set of edible underwear, whilst squinting sideways.The castings were perfect, the cabinet was original, made out of oak.To buy more time before I showed my hand I was now fondling a red satin basque as well, the only thing I couldn’t control was my dribbling, this machine had been well looked after.

The lady of the stall started to come over to enquire if she could help me, but as I reached for the diamnante suspender belt, she changed her mind and sent her old man over instead.

“Can I help you mate?”  He enquired, his voice heavily laden with caution.The look on his face seemed to say “I get up at 6.00 am on a Sunday morning to deal with the likes of this!” Perhaps he’d guessed that I was a slotty.I decide it was time I came clean. 

Excitedly hugging the frillies to my chest I asked him to tell me about The Groetchen.He looked genuinely taken aback.

“Who’s Gretchen?” His voice had a tone to it that reminded me of panic.  I released my grip on the items I’d been pretending to be interested in, so I could point, they were snatched in mid fall by his wife and put well out of my reach.

“This machine” I clarified. “What can you tell me about it?”If he’d looked confused before, now he looked completely bewildered. Luckily Doff turned up in time to give me a character reference.

“He’s methodically filling my house up with junk.”  She explained. “We sleep in the cupboard under the stairs now.” She complimented me. 

Anyway cutting the story short it turned out that he’d had the Columbia over ten years, knew nothing about it, but thought it needed a new spring on the handle as it was floppy.

I whipped it apart and discovered the mechanism was seized, it was lacking the bolting system that holds the mech in place, the cash box was missing, a homemade arrangement had been added to divert coins from the overflow back to the payout tray, and the double jackpot mechanism was missing.

If it had been in perfect condition it would have been worth £400 maximum, but in this state no more than £150, £100 and it would be a bargain.

I hummed and sucked my teeth a lot, before asking how much he wanted for it. The St.John’s Ambulance people were very kind and their hut was nice and warm.

Their tea was a bit sickly but I think they put lots of sugar in it deliberately, does it help treat shock?

They explained to Doff it was probably nothing more than a reaction to the cold, and asked if I’d had any breakfast before coming out. She explained it probably wouldn’t have made any difference if I’d consumed a stuffed swan before venturing forward that morning, she was sure the clue to my having gone horizontal was in my repeated high pitched exclamations of

… seven hundred pounds … did you say seven hundred pounds?

Doff poured me into the car and drove me home, one good thing came out of it though.  Whilst they were waiting for the St John’s people to get their stretcher the lady on the stall slipped her their card and told her they knew where to get lingerie that would fit even my bulky frame.

Only if I can have a burger afterwards

Doff commented that my flabby, dangly bits were getting ambitous, she suggested that a spot of cardio-vascular exercise wouldn’t go amiss.  I acquiesced, and went off to struggle into the perspex liberty bodice which is usually the prompt for Doff to get the whip out of the freezer.  However this time she had a different idea, she took me to a gym.

This was my first ever visit and up until then I had always held the view that they were sweaty dens of torture, patronised by grunts and swollen glands, and I must admit I was pleasantly correct!

The real shock though came the next morning, I expected agony, but I didn’t ache anywhere, nor was I walking like Worzel Gummidge struggling down a cobbled road.  Doff was less impressed and kept repeating that we had only gone in for a price list.

Although I reminded her that we’d had to negotiate two flights of stairs …… twice! …….. I can’t help feeling this will all end in tears.

Are my morals dropping or am I just becoming more matter of fact?

I remember being horrified hearing about people who pay for dubious company. 

It didn’t matter if they were doshing out for an escort to accompany them to the theatre or were really prepared to hand over folding money to a stranger in exchange for getting down and dirty, it all seemed too tacky to contemplate.

Then an aquaintance explained to me that it was actually cheaper than forking out for a posh meal, cinema tickets and so on whilst still running the risk of them not playing but shooting straight off home after.  Not to mention any complications arising through misunderstandings, fractured emotions, avoiding them at work afterwards.

I wasn’t convinced, but I suppose I hadn’t thought deeply enough about the prospects.  I’d only viewed the transaction as money moving from male to female, perhaps I have been too naive.

There’s a bloke I know who told me that he’s regularly strapped for cash.  I’m too shy really to ask for details, but I do wonder if it’s painful and how much he makes?