What Selfridges and more can do to you!

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the ......... and so on
Choose your future.Choose life.
With thanks to John Hodge, Renton and Train Spotting fans everywhere

I was referred to this recently by one of my family who described an email I had sent when a little bit excited in these terms "Wow. Like the speech at the end of Train Spotting" Not quite as I am not cynical nor a recovering heroin addict. I was just a bit agitated! However it was a great film.But sometimes you can't help but think .........

We are now into the season of good will to all men. A time to celebrate and share with friends and strangers alike. Nowhere was this more evident than at Selfridges in London. Er, hang on , I don't think they are on board yet. Nor are some of the people out there I think. This week, not even out of November, Selfridges sacked its Father Christmas. His crime? He asked what he described as an older lady although apparently in her 50s or so, if she would like to sit on his knee, while on duty in his chair in the grotto. This woman clearly devoid of the traditional english sense of humour or xmas spirit complained to Selfridges management who immediately fired him. Apparently the conversation went like this -

Santa - would you like to sit on my knee?
Miserable woman - would you like the sack?
Santa - I've already got one full of presents
Miserable woman - it must be big then
Santa - sit on my knee and you'll find out

Just in case you hadn't realised I made these up! But maybe something like that might have been offensive to some precious home counties neurotic. But a simple "Would you like to sit on my knee?" instead of raising a smile lead to the poor white bearded fat guy being thrown out. What is happening to our humour?

We need to go into Selfridges and confuse them with constant double entendre or suggestive questions:-

I've come in here to pull a cracker? Are you ladies available?
Blimey , look at those puddings? I'd love a mouth full of them ...
I think I'll carry my tangerines in my underpants like that poster of David Beckham. Can you help me fill them up?
You get the idea.......................

Or maybe just boycott Selfridges.