The View from Parson Street Nose

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By PARSONSTNOSE | Thursday, November 15, 2012, 08:12

A loud thumping sound was echoing far up into Asda's lofty reaches.

"Ariel! Stop kicking that box!"

I rounded the corner of the shelf just in time to take the full force of a small girl, face wrought with fury who belted straight into my basket sending it crashing into the display.

"Come back yer, you little demon!" howled her mother, giving chase behind a heavily-laden trolley.

I thought it wise to make off into the relative safety of the men's department to look for some new socks for the Skipper who has toenails like a raccoon and a tendency to shred everything his wretched feet touch.   

The sound of giggling had me peeking sideways at the two elderly gents in flat caps busy examining the underwear.

"Look, Ted! I'm a party animal," rasped one fellow holding up a pair of luridly coloured underpants to his person.

"More like an escaped animal, if you asks me," replied his pal, guffawing as he picked up another pair of the comedy drawers and wiggling them. "How about these then? Dancing pants these."  

With a nice multi-pack of natty socks stowed in my basket I arrived at the prescription counter at just the wrong moment, for the woman in front of me was executing a revolting cough at the assistant.

"It's like that, hear it?"

The bemused-looking assistant nodded at her. "And sometimes it's like that."

Now puce of cheek, the woman hoicked so deeply I thought she may spit out a tonsil. Her throaty recital of the phlegm scale was too much for me and I decided to do a quick circuit of the store and return later.

On my way to the laundry aisle I got stuck behind the two gents in flat caps, who were shuffling along, discussing the relative merits of Daz over Surf when I heard a familiar shriek rise above their jabbering.

"Ariel! Put that down now. For the love of God, no! Ariel!"

The little girl had managed to engage the spray nozzle on some form of laundry freshener and was busy squirting the shelves with it.

"Ooh, Ariel," said the flat cap named Ted, "I'd forgotten about Ariel, now that was a good detergent. My Renee always liked that."

"Is that kid really called Ariel?" chimed in his buddy, "Do you think she's got a sister at 'ome called Persil?" he began giggling again.

"Don't they ever give 'em some names nowadays?" said Ted, eyeing the girl who was now shaking a tub of Vanish powder as if she were mixing a martini. "If I was 'er Mother I'd 'ave called the little blighter, Medusa!"



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