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Saturday, August 15, 2009

Catalogue of disasters

TheBloke (TM) is of the South African persuasion, and therefore a little bit overexcited about Argos. Not the place in Greece. I can understand being excited about a Mediterranean holiday. He is excited about Argos the shop. Those of you born and bred in England can possibly guess from this how exciting your average South African shopping experience is.

I have tried - on numerous occasions - to explain to him that Argos is a little bit rubbish. Everything I have ever bought from Argos is either a little bit broken or else needs to be taken back because it's completely broken.

For further Argos frustrations see http://laurasplog.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-good-to-talk.html

I have explained Argos' rubbishness to him many times. I have pointed out that whenever we go, we end up waiting at least 45 minutes for our goods, which are then invariable slightly broken, or broken so completely we have to come again next week. This does not deter him. TheBloke (TM) loves Argos.

He thinks it's a magic, magic store where three thousand pages-worth of furniture, jewellery, toys, tools, nasal hair clippers, foot spas, games systems and sleeping bags nestle in a magic fairyland, ready to be called down at a moment's notice. Well, 45 minutes' notice anyway. He buys everything from Argos. Everything. Despite the fact that it inevitably breaks, usually one day after the warranty has expired. He loves it.

I will realise I need a new hairdryer, and I will propose popping into Argos on my way home.

"No!" cries TheBloke (TM) plaintively, "Not without me!"

"But TheBloke (TM)," I say, "you don't need anything from Argos. It will just be queues and frustrations, and there's really no need for you to come."

"But I LIKE it," says TheBloke (TM), and whimpers until I promise to take him after all.

When we get there, he presses his little wet nose into the (thankfully) laminated pages of the Argos catalogue, and starts stroking the page with Xboxes on, until someone (usually me) asks him to stop. Then he catches sight of the Spider-Man Ceiling Projection Alarm Clock, and the conveyor belt on which the goodies are delivered, and it's all I can do to wrestle his debit card off him.

He then has to sit in the car until he's calmed down. This usually takes about 45 minutes. Luckily this ties in nicely with the amount of time I have to wait for my slightly-broken hairdryer to arrive.

I hate Argos.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Good title too!
RSN

Anonymous said...

Bill Bailey calls it the "Laminated Book of Dreams" !

Anonymous said...

http://www.argos.co.uk/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/Search?storeId=10001&catalogId=1500001801&langId=-1&searchTerms=spiderman+alarm

Laura said...

I suspect TheBloke (TM) of the last comment. Dropping heavy-handed hints six months before his birthday.

L x