Jonola14

ASDA EXPERIENCE

“Let’s go for a fry-up then” Mark said as we lingered in the kitchen, reminiscing about last night’s antics. And off we went, direction Sainsbury’s. “Go to ASDA instead” Jason suggested as we approached the cross-roads “the portions are bigger”. So ASDA it was, not realising that this was about to be the most bizarre supermarket experience of our entire lives.

As we walked towards the entrance, we noted a Coca-Cola truck blaring out music and a sign stating that the Regional Coca-Cola Singing Finals were taking place today. Nothing was happening yet, so we ventured inside the supermarket and marvelled at its vastness.

Everything was going as normal until we reached the restaurant area. The menu board said that the ‘Big Breakfast’ was only served until 11.30am and seeing as it was just before midday, we wondered if it might still be running. “Are you still serving breakfast?” Mark enquired of the attendant. A glazed look came over her face, it was plain to see that the local educational system had passed her by and it looked like her brain was about to explode (very much a la Fembots from Austin Powers) at the complexity of such a taxing enquiry. “For goodness sake, it’s not a difficult question” I mumbled as I began to lose faith in the ASDA experience. Then the young child in front of us filled its nappy and the smell quickly eroded any desires to eat.

Eventually we were served a makeshift breakfast and sat at a table in the dining area. We noted the decorations - large words such as ‘pastries’, ‘cream cakes’ and ‘fun boxes’ covered the walls and we were about to ask the tray-clearer what on Earth a ‘fun box’ was, when we noted that she was about four feet tall. It was when she tried to clean the larger tables that things became even more amusing. Too short to lean over and reach the centre of the table to clean away erroneous baked beans and empty pepper sachets, she would lean on the edge of the table, pull herself forward so her legs were off the ground, scrub away at the dirty surface, before edging back to the side of the table, feet kicking in the air as she struggled back, and return to ground, acting like this was normal behaviour, when, in fact, she looked more like an Oompa Loompa.

The man on the next table was clearly no stranger to a fried breakfast and was picking bacon up with his fingers, before leaning his head back, dangling the bacon above his face and guzzling the entire rasher in one mouthful.

Once we had finished eating, sat down on a random bench, watched a ten year old boy slip over and pondered where the next amusing incident would come from, we headed for the exit, only to see a small child battering a man’s head with an inflatable plastic hammer.

The Singing Finals were well underway and they were down to the last three contestants - a middle-aged mother, a twelve year old boy and a good looking girl, who was the reason why Mark insisted we stay until the end, as she was the final contestant. Mark was visibly drooling and thinking perverted thoughts. “Please welcome Nikki” the man in charge said and everybody applauded, the girl not once leaving Mark’s gaze. “So this is Nikki, she’s come all the way from Plymouth to be here and she’s just FIFTEEN years old”. Mark’s face dropped and was quickly followed by “shall we leave?” which we promptly did, in hysterics.