Poo

At the risk of turning this blog into a serial moan about British shops and utility providers, I would like to kvetch about Sainsbury’s. Sainsbury’s gives me a headache. It’s not the lighting or the beepy beepety beep of the tills which make my bonce cringe. Nor is the lovely booze which they sell by the case. Neither is it their habit of moving things around so that some beef is never in the same place twice, and I likes some beef I does.

Nope it’s none of these. It is in fact the artificial smell of baking bread which they pipe through the ventilation system. It hits me straight in the sinuses every time; my eyes start to water and a throbbing headache wracks my skull and nausea grips my stomach. In fact on several occasions I’ve had to walk out and get some fresh air to prevent myself from chundering over the salad bar. Though I doubt that anybody would notice a bit of vomit, among all those congealed tubs of cack.

Why do supermarkets insist on doing this?! It’s not fooling anyone! At no time in the past, present or future has a customer walked into a store and said “I do love that smell of bread in formaldehyde – it really puts a spring in my step. Yummy yummy yummy yummy.” Never! I reckon you could go back pretty far in Earth’s history and still not find a person who would say that thing that I just wrote down using my fingers.

Perhaps other companies should follow suit. The next time you go to the Undertaker; why not enjoy the authentic smell of rotting cadavers piped directly into your head through tubes? Getting married? Then get your local church to distribute the smell of spunk and disappointment through their organ pipes.  Also a stay in hospital could be improved no-end by the smell of guts.

O brave new world, that has such stenches in it.