At last, we say our dues to a place we all hold dear to our hearts. Now, with a tale to show my unwavering admirration for the multinational German conglomorate supplying food stuffs for a large portion of the human race since 1973. It is, however, a tragic tale that brings our love to the fore. This is, of course, Storm Eowyin, the Wally from the Wesht. Flippin' wheelie bins all over RTÉ. Blowing ur nickers off the line into the neighbours' hedge-for fuuck sakkke..
And sure, dont we all know it's all just a ploy.. a bet for a dollar by Lord Aldi and Lord Lidl, two German Billionaires with a capital B- fucking with the poor again to sell out of their Polish Honey in a day. Storma Eugene wasn't but a rain cloud and a fart of gust. The billionaires passed wind to the media, and with a wave of their hand, shelves were cleared of all the christmas backlog. Even though panic in the media is just a normal accepted thing now- an expected advertising strategy in the new world order, we all willingly fall into their net without question, struggle, or resistance of any kind. Even a wet wriggling fish fresh out of water puts up more of a fight now than the cowards of the so-called 'modern Wesht'.
All it took was the weatherman to give the go ahead and put a big red wet patch on the screen and our Mary from up the road was filling her trolley with candles, bog roll for days, tins of pickled salmon and anything else left in ol miser Lidl's pantry.. kudos my Lords.. kudos..
Of course the following day Lidl was Not closed as advertised, and thank fug, I was out of dairymilk, it was 9.30pm by the time I realised so ran up the road to restock before the next national panic was announced...
As I walked in, I noticed all the staff loitering around the entrance, strange I thought as usually they're busy as wasps. But then I come to find, I'm the only customer in the shop.. for the first time in my life.. soft jazz music guided me through the queless aisles, all that electricity running just for me to choose my evenings munch..
"Ah we meet again!" A sassy Polish lady grunts from across the store, "the baron of Chocolandia" she calls me.. "what'll it be today my little pork pie?, crips, half dozen cream eggs, and a pint of knock off cola coke?? Who's a big boy?!".. I have come to accept the constant beliddling of the Lidl staff everytime I line up to display my little unnecessaries on the conveyor belt of shame.. always amplified by the 60 year old little coupon woman in front stackin up blue berries and protein yogurts. I know what I am and I've accepted that. It's everyone else that has a problem with my tummy tum.
The interchange is repeated 3 times daily after I return home when Mother goose catches me at the front door to inspect my shopping bag, and mein furer bends his neck around the sitting room wall to query the purposes of my purchases. Hello, my name is Marty, and I am a chocoholic, for breakfast, lunch..and Dinner..
Where else in the world can one fine oneself comfortable in a sea of knock off almost as good as the brand name biscuits, German chocolate and tasteless peaches? A stones throw away from anywhere in the capital, a true marvel of wholesale food business feeding the nation with low end quality sustenance, 40% off with the app. We will never starve in this country, if only they did homes and humanoid robots that walked the dog and emptied the dishwasher. No doubt in our lifetime all the multinational companies will finally unify and put an end to democracy, drones will deliver food before you even know what your missing in the pantry, you can just stay at home filling urself with cold and flu medicines chowing down on discounted pickled cabbage and raisin bars. What an age we live in. You asked for it! Remember thar.. you asked for it all.. you fucking rat people.. you all disgust me. read more
