I have to go shopping for the second time this week.........with a husband who follows me around....children I cannot see for crowds and all because the Royal Mail suck and have forced me to shop in the High Street.
If I could send them Ghosts of Late Post and Lost Parcels and a very scary one called the Ghost of Christmases Spoiled, I would. In my world (where obviously I rule and can be utterly ridiculous if I choose) they should be forced to listen to Vogon poetry and have to endure non-stop soaps and reality TV. Afternoon tea with Derren Brown with minging tea and dry stale chocolate cake whilst wearing braces, set in a hospital waiting room with awful Jeremy Kyle type shows on in the background and moany faced receptionists. Wet pants and a waiter who prods them repeatedly over and over and over and over and over until they beg for forgiveness, plead for their souls and wake up the next morning ordering me the biggest prize turkey from the butcher from a street urchin who happens to be passing.
If I could I would.
Until them I shake my fist at them and boo like they're baddies in a panto and off I go.....