Well Tesco isn’t really evil. It’s the Walmart of the UK and it’s very handy (although my wife refuses to go there because our local one is overrun with Chav’s and nutcases (which I find kind of charming in a ‘my-life-may-not-be-perfect-but-it-could-be-so-much-worse’ kind of way).
However how stupid do they think I am? I got some cook-in-the-oven fish from them the other day and bought the most expensive battered fish I could find. I open the box and find this:
I mean what’s this? Where’s the other fish fillets? You could get nearly two more in there! Is it a conspiracy – have they been reducing the size of the fish? And I have to recycle their stupid box because we only get the bin emptied every two weeks (which is another rant just begging to be blogged about).
In a fit of pique I decided to shop at Waitrose, up the road. As I wandered around wondering why they thought sticking Heston Blumenthal’s mugshot on everything justified a 20% mark up I nearly ran over a little kid: It was the son of Katie Price, Queen of Chavs, shopping – there’s karma for you.