Wrinklies and Mobility Chariots

Yesterday, I did the unthinkable, and that was go shopping with Mrs R, something I have not done for many years.

The first hour I spent dodging fcucking trollies driven by split arses who did't know their arse from their elbow.

Then the music started playing in my head, you know, the theme from Jaws!

I turned round and there's this fcucking grey haired coffin dodger on one of those red electrical chariots coming towards me and he has this strange glint in his eyes! I leg it into another aisle, fcuck me there's another one, next minute I am surrounded and all the wrinklies are heading for me, either that or I am getting bloody paranoid. I make a tactical withdrawal to the outer perimeter of the store. I've left the missuss she can fend for herself. Fcuck me here's another one coming round the corner. Phone the wife tell her I am off to sit in the car. By now I am getting PTSD.

That's not the end of it. Last night I had a nightmare, I was getting followed by about 30 of these things on the way to work.

Anywhere I can go for counselling?

The village I grew up in (and where my parents still live) has an old bloke (80-odd) who has one of these chariot thingies. He got one after his driving license got pulled because his eyesight was too bad. So now he rides around the local area roads, blind as a bat, on one of these things. Most days, he'll go to the pub as soon as it opens, sink 7 or 8 pints and carry on trundling around the country lanes. Fair play to the old boy he only gets stuck in a hedge once a month or so.

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