The Most Tragic Shopping Basket Ever

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This afternoon I was in the queue at our local supermarket. I was unfortunate to be immediately behind one of those insufferable chav cunts who wears a baseball cap back to front, has an ear ring in both ears, and ‘sags’ his jeans to show that he’s wearing Clavin Klein branded ‘trunks’ (almost certainly a knock-off I reckon).

Yes you’ve got it; a real style icon, this one. It’s nailed on that he refers to his girlfriend as ‘babe’. Definitely a twat; however I became truly fascinated by the depths of his cuntitude as he began unloading the contents of his basket onto the belt.

Here we go; a copy of the ‘Daily Star’, a pack of pickled onion ‘Monster Munch’, a bag of frozen oven chips, a ‘Hunger Breaks’ breakfast (for the uninitiated, a can containing beans, sausages, mushrooms, cereal, chopped pork, egg and a bacon burger, in tomato sauce ffs), a pot noodle, a bottle of cider, and some of the store’s own-brand ‘super saver’ bog rolls.

Bloody hell, what a woeful state of affairs. A truly sad cunt with what is without doubt, the most tragic shopping basket ever seen. It’s almost as though evolution had shaped the latter as a natural extension of the former.

There’s no substitute for style, and this plank was no substitute. The buyer and his shopping basket; cunts both.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

37 thoughts on “The Most Tragic Shopping Basket Ever”

  1. Several years ago I saw a bloke at a checkout in Morrisons whose purchases consisted solely of a cucumber two jars of Vaseline.

  2. I once went on a late night dash to Wankbury’s for a few items, including a pack of sanitary towels for er’ indoors and a bottle of single malt for yours truly.

    As the young wimminz on the till put the items through, u made the classic comment:

    “May as well get pissed as my weekend is fucked!”

    She pissed herself laughing-literally had tears running down her face.
    That was years ago. Probably call the woke police on me now 🤔

  4. I wouldn’t have liked to be behind Ron’s customer when he ate his breakfast and farted in his Calvin Kleins – it must have smelt horrific. That tart must have been brave!

  5. With a diet like that you think he’d pay extra for some decent bog roll – he’s going to need it.

  6. Astute observation RK a sad collection of articles.

    I may be able to enlighten fellow cunters as to the sagging jeans story. This explanation was provided to me some years ago by a stateside friend who had an interest in the culture of the American penal system.

    Here goes, pull up a sandbag etc. Certain prisons in California would issue replacement prison clothing by piling the various items on tables and the lags would walk along picking items till they had the correct number of items.

    Lots of this gear at the time was second hand repaired to save money, some items would be new these would be sort after obviously. To ensure the hard men got first pickings the weaker, unliked, arse buddy, bitch etc would be forced to the rear of the line Thus many of the younger inmates would end up with too large pants and would spend their days with half their arse hanging out with issue underpants sans gusset.

    Eventually as people came out of jail the sagging pants became a sort of tribal indicator and the look has been adopted by millions of fuckwits ever since. What most of them do not realise is that in the beginning the saggy pants also indicated an availability for arse fun.

    (Edited slightly for clarity – Day Admin)

    • Sorry DA paragraph spacing good. Wilful over excitement pre meds.

      (No worries, mate. It was a good comment in need of a paragraph or two. Cheers – Day Admin)

    • Have to say BB that I was given a different explanation in regards to the UK at least. If the British police put you in a cell they take away your tie, belt, shoelaces etc., for fear you could use them to hang yourself. Therefore if your trousers are loose fitting they slide down. If they want your clothes for evidence or DNA etc., you wind up in a paper suit. The paper suit option is also used to humiliate as I have seen with my own eyes. The sort of half-wits who see an ASBO as a badge of honour adopted this look to raise their status in the circles in which they move.

  7. The checkout girl must think I’m a drunken caveman as my trolley only contains meat and booze as I get my veg at the market.

  8. I heard on the radio yesterday that some high end clothing company , in Yankland I think, is producing these strides with the protruding expansive pants label sewn in, presumably so your can wear women’s panties while everyone thinks you’re wearing these Colin Klines or whatever they are. Naturally they have already been branded as raaaay-sist due to the cultural appropriation of African American “style” blah blah woof woof.
    £860 a pop so I won’t be wearing them.

    • ‘Racist’ lol!
      Isn’t it funny how ‘cultural appropriation’ works in one direction?
      Whoever came up with that notion in the first place is, in my opinion, in need of serious treatment. I’m sure they suffer from some kind of neurosis or something.

  9. We should rejoice at the choices that modern consumerism provides. Make the most of it, like the cunt in the queue. If the XR cunts and public health Nazis have their way the endgame will be shelves stocked solely with organic mung beans and broccoli stalks. The only drink available will be bottled Thunberg piss (still) and Lucas-ade (sparkling). And we will be expected to sing the fucking party song to show our gratitude.

    The man in the queue is obviously a cunt, but he is our last, best hope. Deprive him of his pickled onion flavour Monster Munch and all hell just might break loose.

    Good morning, everyone.

  10. I boycott Sainsbury’s now after their cowardly withdrawal of advertising on GB NEWS , giving in to the Woke Cunts

  11. My basket:
    – Rustlers burger
    – Cheese String
    – x2 ÂŁ5 scratch cards
    – Monster energy drink
    – Reduced BLT sammich that looks suspiciously out of date
    – Hula Hoops
    – The Sun

    Livin’ large mate!

  12. I love going to the corner store for one single item: sex lube. Mrs Curtains cringes that I do that but it is truly the only thing I need to stop for. I place it on the counter with the label facing up and try to detect a facial expression on the checker. It’s fun.

      • Not as much as I’d like. Usually have to get a new tube because the old one gets gummy and past sell by date. Lol

  13. I used to call in this local spar on an estate which is now the domain of Kinnock junior, and he occasionally flies in from Lichtenstein or wherever the cunt lives, because it isn’t the flat above a kebab shop that is on his literature, a practice that got that UKIP cunt vilified for at the same election. At least he could get to his address without showing a passport.
    I was temping for the local authority, and the spar was handy for a quick lunch, but there was a regular shopping list for the locals, and I heard it, or variations of it, every time I called for a soggy filled baguette. It went….
    20 red band cigarettes
    ÂŁ5 gas (or electric) token
    Half bottle of budget vodka or whiskey
    Then whatever was left was spent on scratchcards.
    I swear, every time I went in there I heard this shopping list.
    All that was missing was the multiple packs of paracetamol, so the could check out after the checkout.

  15. That shopping basket sounds like a feast. I am however disappointed with the lack of tea, milk, and cream cakes.

  16. Ron, I knew a Phyliss Stine once. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her Belgian buns.
    *Runs away* 😀

  17. These big fat blueberry cunts can be seen everywhere. I take my 89 year old dad for treatment at hospital and these fat useless 10 stone overweight cunts are in abundance everywhere. Also see cunts who are obviously in patients outside smoking fags like there is no tomorrow. No wonder the health service is in the shit state it is.

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