Poetry Corner: Shopping In A Different Aldi

My regular is shut for a refit or something,
Or they’ve got new staff to train,
So I’ve to go and shop at a different spot
And it’s about to break my brain

I’m shopping in a different Aldi
And my blood is starting to boil.
I’m shopping in a different Aldi;
Where the fuck’s the fucking cooking oil?

When I come down here in my usual one
I find pizzas – Hawaiian, margherita.
But what do I find in this strange place?
A workbench and a patio heater.

I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
I can’t find the bloody pies.
I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
Is there any falafel in this house of lies?

There’s couscous where the crisps go,
Everything’s different and yet just the same.
Crisps have replaced the cat food,
I can’t find the bog rolls. I’m going insane

I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
Garden furniture and a welcome mat.
I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
There’s a whole extra aisle of pointless tat.

The parking bays are bigger here,
I swear there’s room for a tank.
The layout is different but familiar,
Like using your wrong hand for a wank.

I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
Getting carried out and bundled into a van.
I’m shopping in a different Aldi.
Screaming ‘Instead of cheese it were frying pans’.

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