sorry

i have to apologise to the shoppers in the whitechapel branch of sainsburys.
there i was walking around looking for something to eat (and what a mistake i made chicago town’s microwavable pizzas are only to be eaten after there has been a nuclear war and there is nothing else left to fill your belly with), the ipod was playing some rammstein (there is something odd about listening to german industrial metal as you ponder should i get the brown rolls or the crusty white ones).
as ever when i go into this branch i always seem to head to the media section first, i have no idea why i do this, as it is rare that i buy a cd, dvd or book from there yet i am drawn to it like a whovian to hamlet.
as i browsed the books i was struck by an overwhelming feeling of despair. you can tell christmas is here as there are countless ‘humour’ books such as golf wit. what? there is nothing funny about golf aside from the clothes they wear and colin montgomerie. the humour section merges into the 'be like a celeb' section – yes you too can eat and dress like a celeb, if only you had their money (and you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t need their book). this section drifts into the celeb biographies people you have never heard of but have had their 15 minutes of fame (oh if only it were only 15 minutes for some of them) or have not had the time to achieve more than one thing in their lives so far. this lot butts up against the fiction paperbacks filled with dan brown alikes (i want to write a blockbusting novel about a secret society that actually wants to be discovered because they are annoyed that all the other societies are grabbing the headlines, my only fear is that it would be put with the humour books), then just when i think it has reached rock bottom i realise there is another new james patterson novel out. it is enough to make you cry.
over at the dvd section my local sainsburys dishes up a nice line in horror dvds, it is better than the local blockbusters.
even worse than the entertainment section is the ‘gift’ section. i have yet to work out quite why they are selling night vision goggles, but it takes all my will power not to buy them. yes i know they won’t work very well it is just that i never bought a pair of those x-ray specs that were always advertised in comics so the night vision things are the next best thing.
moving swiftly on, and with rammstein banging on in my ears i return to my quest for food.
and it is during my journey through the aisles that the incident that i have to apologise for occurs.
it takes me back many years ago when i was at the lse (no not the london stock exchange but the london school of economics). little did i know at the time that my goal of snagging a ma was a mere pipedream, at this particular moment i was in the library searching through various volumes of the british journal of sociology.
but first a little rewind.
before i had gone to the library i had been to the canteen. not the regular canteen, that was undergoing some redecoration so i was in the wood panelled staff canteen. there i had a coffee and a smoked salmon sandwich.
big mistake.
fast forward.
the correct volume of the british journal of sociology is in my hands. i start scanning the article i need, oh yes it has the information i need.
then it happens, as if from the bowels of hell comes a gurgling and a burbling, there is a tremor in my tummy. i am almost too scared to move in case i set off a chain reaction. i try for zen like calm, i remember all my old sensei taught me: still the mind control the body. i fear it is too late. it is. all i can do now is limit the damage. through clenched buttocks i squeeze out a silent parp, i feel it flutter my underpants and ripple my jeans. once it is out i breathe a sigh of relief. phew dodged a bullet there. ooops spoke too soon. here comes another one. crikey that went on a bit, but still quiet, no one heard. i look around, i can feel a bead of sweat form and start to run down the side of my face. another one leaks out. disaster. then the smell hits me. oh my good googlymoogly that is vile it is as if all the unwashed demons of the netherworld had decided to get hot and sweaty at once. i have just unleashed hell. i have to escape before someone else comes looking for books in this section of the library. oh no there is another one. the air is shimmering; you can cut it with a knife. escape, escape, escape.
i do make it to safety of another floor in the library, the volume of the british journal of sociology left behind, a fallen soldier to chemical warfare.
i return an hour later when i think the coast might be clear.

and there i am in sainsburys a burbling and gurgling. it is like an acid flashback, all of a sudden i am back in that library and i know what is going to happen. i try to rush, i really do, get my shopping done and out into the open before the inevitable occurs. alas my timing is off and as i walked passed the tinned fish section and comes a little parp. i keep moving over to the bread, another one escapes. i am leaving vapour trails as i go.
suddenly i am thankful for the ipod with the sound up i can’t hear the cries for help, i can’t hear the gagging noises i just hear the beat of german industrial music.

so to those in sainsburys who got caught in my whiff stream i am sorry. sadly i can’t promise it won’t happen again.