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It will never matter how much aftershave you put on.To James Quinton's previous piece     Thick as ThievesTo James Quinton's next piece


quickly losing the will
to live
standing ten deep
in a supermarket queue
i lift my head
and pray that
the Angel Of Death
will take me away
'oh God' I groan
as the middle aged
lady behind me
starts coughing
i wish for a second
that I had a sword
i would turn and
cut her head clean off

there is a (probably)
single mother in
front of me one
of her two
screaming brats
bangs into me
mother does

i'm starting to
sweat the guy
at the till is
exchanging fuck
knows how many
vouchers he
smiles and apologises to
the person directly behind
him I want him
dead i want to run him
down in the car
park i want to stuff those
fucking vouchers into his
smug pompous face

i can't take it I
leave the
queue and walk to the
entertainment section
i put my basket
down and walk
away I walk out
of the supermarket
to my car
i open the door
and sit in the driver's
seat I'm sweating
i'm shaking
i look up and see
the fuck with
the vouchers
ambling across
the car park

i start the engine

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