I was in Waitrose this afternoon, which for visitors who dont know, is a posh supermarket, catering for people who don't have to consider the cost when they buy their groceries. I was standing before a shelf, marvelling at the range overpriced superfluities on offer. I had in my hand a tub of Cadbury's Cocoa, priced at £1.75, and was considering the meaning of the fact that just a few days ago I'd bought an identical tub from my friend's corner shop for just £1.09. Just then I heard a raised voice beside me.
'Alright pal, hand over that bottle you've got under yer coat, or we'll av yer locked up.'
I turned to see an elderly gent, shock of unruly white hair, face the worse for drink, clutching two bottles of Vladivar vodka. He was being confronted by a small, stocky man and a smaller plump woman, both had their backs to me.
'I've never ed owt like it', slurred the old feller in his defence, bringing the Vladiver bottles closer to him.
It was clear to me in an instant that the accusers were not store detectives but members of the public, and that they were man and wife.
'Come on pal', chipped the little man, rolling his shoulders, 'Let's av that bottle, or am fetchin coppers.' His missis wagged her head.
A jolt of hatred for the man's voice pulsed through me, and I peeked at a bottle of Duchy Originals Lemon and Elderflower Cordial with a view to smashing the little twat over the head with it. I pictured the old drunk making a triumphant escape with his three bottles of vodka.
I struggle with these impulses. They have Anti Social Behavior Orders for people like me.
Soon the senior citizen was surrounded by Waitrose staff in neat green uniforms, who escorted him out of the building. The little couple followed the procession, clearly pleased with their intervention.
'Ave never ed owt like it', I heard him say convincingly as they relieved him of the bottles. I watched as he went meekly out of the automatic doors.
Half a dozen street drinkers, waiting for him patiently on the subway benches over the road, would see him come back empty handed and feel the bitter sting of defeat.
Another setback for the working class.
'Alright pal, hand over that bottle you've got under yer coat, or we'll av yer locked up.'
I turned to see an elderly gent, shock of unruly white hair, face the worse for drink, clutching two bottles of Vladivar vodka. He was being confronted by a small, stocky man and a smaller plump woman, both had their backs to me.
'I've never ed owt like it', slurred the old feller in his defence, bringing the Vladiver bottles closer to him.
It was clear to me in an instant that the accusers were not store detectives but members of the public, and that they were man and wife.
'Come on pal', chipped the little man, rolling his shoulders, 'Let's av that bottle, or am fetchin coppers.' His missis wagged her head.
A jolt of hatred for the man's voice pulsed through me, and I peeked at a bottle of Duchy Originals Lemon and Elderflower Cordial with a view to smashing the little twat over the head with it. I pictured the old drunk making a triumphant escape with his three bottles of vodka.
I struggle with these impulses. They have Anti Social Behavior Orders for people like me.
Soon the senior citizen was surrounded by Waitrose staff in neat green uniforms, who escorted him out of the building. The little couple followed the procession, clearly pleased with their intervention.
'Ave never ed owt like it', I heard him say convincingly as they relieved him of the bottles. I watched as he went meekly out of the automatic doors.
Half a dozen street drinkers, waiting for him patiently on the subway benches over the road, would see him come back empty handed and feel the bitter sting of defeat.
Another setback for the working class.
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