It has been one of my great pleasures for many years to complain about how stupid/mean/ignorant/cheap other people are, on the basis that I'm clearly so vehement and scary when doing so that no-one in their right mind would contradict me, lest they in turn face my unyielding and multi-faceted wrath. My particular bugbear, the phrase I have heard so often over the past three years that I sometimes dream about people saying it to me, followed by me punching them in the gut (or lower) is "You Want HOW MUCH?"
Because of course, they know exactly how much I want. I just said it. A loud exclamation of their shock and disgust at the amount of money I am asking for in exchange for goods and/or service is simply not necessary. Perhaps they wonder if, by making such a splutter, that I may suddenly become aware for the first time that this price is unacceptable? Maybe they dare hope that they will be the person to finally shame me into changing forever this unfair and unrealistic price. Maybe. Then again, maybe they're just being rude. I have an opinion on this matter that needs little explanation, but has recently brought me to an unpleasant realisation.
Having recently relocated to London, I have spent the past few days wandering around with my mouth open in awe of the splendour surrounding me. As I am privileged enough to be living in the heart of Central London, a stones throw in any direction from Soho, Covent Garden and Leicester Square to name but a few, my path constantly crosses a plethora of theatres, restaurants, shops and other establishments of repute and wonder. It also takes me to Tesco, where I do my weekly food shop. And this dear readers is where it gets slightly unpleasant.
I do not want to pay £2.65 for pesto.
I do not begrudge Tesco for opting to sell a high-end, luxury brand of fresh pesto, available for the pesto connoisseurs of the Tesco clientele across the UK, and indeed the world (I myself have visited the Tesco in Prague, where you can buy reasonable priced Violins). However. This pesto is the only pesto available in my local Tesco. Moreover, my favourite jam is approximately 4 pence more expensive. And I'm suddenly, inexplicably enraged. They want HOW MUCH for a tub of bloody pesto? I fear the self-loathing will slowly drive me insane...