For common sense sake I am averse to mentioning a specific supermarket name but want to amuse you lovely readers by recounting and exaggerating upon an incident from last Saturday at the supermarché.
In the past the fishmonger's department and the meat department were occasionally visited by a Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall lookalike with his very young, floppy haired, son, Zachery. They are terribly posh and Daddy speaks to the nine year old son like he is part of a children's TV programme on the television. He ... spells... out... every... word... slowly... as ...if ... the child... is thick or addicted to patronising TV,
Apparently, I am a valued and under paid cast member of the proverbial Kiddy Cookery show. Either I am called
Mr Butcher or
Mr Fishman and perform the tasks to be narrated in real time and in a tone stickier than the stickiest of a gloriously sticky syrup. The very young son of the false HFW is called Zachery but I know his real name and I ain't letting on. Daddy HFW is very patronising but doesn't seem to realise it.
Example: "Now Zackery, watch the nice
Mr Fishman. He is going to prepare our fish. Look he is getting out his ...
very sharp knife... and is taking off ... the fishy head and tail. See. Now he is going to take out the fish's yucky tummy. Watch the deft way he slides the sharp knife along from the fish's bottom hole to its gills. I know, Zackery, one wants to disgorge one's own tummy contents on to the supermarché floor,
n'est pas? Be brave now."
"Now Zachery, watch and see how
Mr Fishman pulls the decidedly yucky tummy out of the dead fish and snips out the purple gills with his
very special
extra sharp scissors. He's
very clever isn't he? Zachery? Are you alright Zachers?
Zachery is going a demure OAP grey around his own gills.
"The
master has to do this so we can eat our fish without guilt or piscatorial acknowledgement Zachery. We wouldn't like to think that we were actually eating Nemo, Jaws or a piece of cod, would we Zachery? Be brave son."
"What's that nasty word we learnt today Zachery? Barbaric? That's right.
Mr Fishman may seem nice and friendly under his goatee beard and white coat but really he is barbaric. Barbaric Zachery, that means ... a ... necessary... vicious... commoner. Commoner Zachery? Oh la la. I couldn't possibly say. Perhaps Mummy will explain later."
"Do you think that Mummy's list suggested we should go to the safe pre-packed isle Zachery? That's a terrible shame because we do so like to witness the brutish skills of the under-paid proletariat, don't we Zachery?" "That's why we like patronising the supermarché."
"What does 'patronising' mean daddy?"
"Stop asking questions Zachery. Mummy will explain what 'patronising' means. Oh alright, it has to do with daddy and his opinions. Daddy is the patron and he is 'ising. Like the 'ising on a cake. That's right. His words are
very special and sugary like marzipan."
"Let's go now and speak to
Mr Butcher who can tell us all about slaughtering large farm animals and about meaty things in ye olden days and about the demise of his own family business when the convenient supermarkets arrived. That's ancient history in action, Zachery. Like Horrible Histories with extra guts and gore."
"Oh look Zachery, mummy is here now in the car park in her armoured four by four. Have you got the important list mummy gave us?"
"Yes but daddy, why haven't the supermarket got stuffed quail with freshly picked and subtly sniffed Mediterranean apricots and organic cashew nuts with hand picked prime seaweed from private and inconceivably remote Cornish coves?"
"Oh Zachery!! Eat your specially prepared fish!!"