Posted on Wednesday, June 15, 2011
in Family, Humourarse, Strange and Unusual
By the time we’d hit the vegetable isle, I decided I’d had enough. Sir Fartsalot was perched in the in-built trolley seat and was also looking pretty pissed off, and not knowing the laws of physics, he seemed pretty confused, too.
Every time I touched him… ZAP. Every time I touched the trolley chassis… POP. Static electriciteh on mah trolleh. Pain in the arse.
I could either:
a) Ditch the trolley and just stuff the groceries into various crevices and pockets I had hanging around, but I’dve gotten into trouble doing that.
b) Take off my shoes and socks and declare myself strange.
c) Earth the trolley somehow, some other way.
So that’s what I did. I wedged my keyring into the metal arch of the trolley wheel and arranged everything so that the keys dragged on the ground, then tested my idea by hyper-accelerating to the butcher’s department. Dubiously I touched the baby’s nose and…
I got strange looks. Very strange looks.
“Your keys are on the ground, love” – I got. Or…
“Don’t leave them behind ya! Haha!”
I nodded, and thanked, and I felt like the biggest weirdo on the planet, but at least the electroshock therapy wasn’t getting in the way of the retail therapy any more.
Why don’t supermarket trolleys have earthing-strips?
(I realise this is an increadibly boring conversational topic, but I don’t care. I’m bored.)