I'm a supermarket shopper,
Perfect in my ways.
I have a list to work from,
Cos organising pays.
I check the 'best before' dates
Making sure I've got the best.
Probably left my finger prints,
When handling all the rest.
There's always queues behind me,
Whilst I'm rummaging about,
Wanting to get past me,
And fuming I've no doubt.
I always choose big trolleys
Though I never have a lot.
They're best for pushing past folk,
It's all part of my plot.
When I reach the checkout
I take up lots of space.
If I see others heading there,
I make sure I win the race.
I have a stack of vouchers
Which take a while to scan
Some I've had for ages.
A bit sticky from the jam.
I have a load of bags with me
For new ones I won't pay.
Then I reach into my pocket.
And note to my dismay.
I forgot to bring my wallet,
And I haven't enough to pay.
Never mind, they can put the stuff back.
And I'll come another day.