There’s no place like Homebase

It’s been all go here at Shark Towers over the last two months or so getting DIY and decorating shit done before the house’s eventual sale later this year.

The whole of the back elevation has been primped and preened from the ridge tiles right down to the back doorstep – every piece of woodwork has been repainted or revarnished, the dodgy pointing in some places has been sorted out and it’s looking great.

If you’d come here a month ago and stood still long enough, you’d have either got a paintbrush up your arse or some mortar slapped in your mouth hole.

But it hasn’t stopped there.

Oh no.

The dining room and kitchen have been redecorated, with new carpet laid in the former and I’ve started tiling the area around the cooker in the latter.

We had to nip out this morning to get some more tile adhesive/grout so popped into Homebase as it was fairly near Maplins where I wanted to go to get a double charge socket for the car.

As we were driving to Homebase from Maplins the sky grew blacker abd blacker, there was a terrific display of forked lightning and then it started to piss down by the bucketload.

You know when you have to put the windscreen wipers on at double-speed?

The rain was that heavy.

Anyway, we got to Homebase, waited in the car a few minutes whilst it eased off slightly and then went in the store.

As Mrs Shark is a sufferer of Meniere’s Disease and is often very unsteady on her feet we used her permit to park in a disabled space right outside the exit door which is usually used as an entrance too.

Well, we went in, bought the tile goo, paid and went to go out of the exit but our way was barred by a Homebase munchkin who told us we’d have to go out via the entrance door as the rain had driven in through the exit door and made the floor a bit wet.

‘You can’t go out that way, the floor’s wet.’

‘But we’re parked just outside there.’ (pointing)

‘Sorry, the floor’s wet and you might slip on it.’

Well, in deference to Mrs Shark, who occasionally finds my arguing with officious shitheads a bit irksome, we went out of the entrance.

However, I was then treated to a mini-rant from her in which she went on about how we were all adults, could manage to negotiate a slippery floor and that did she really need some tit looking after her welfare.

I agreed.

Not because it was wise to – we don’t operate like that, thank Christ – but because it was true.

Surely an adult can decide whether or not a wet floor represents a hazard and then choose whether to accept that risk or not?

No doubt the Homebase management had run a quick risk assessment after thinking that some over-litigious cuntbiscuit might sue if they slipped over and bumped their elbow, but it still doesn’t address the real issue – that our opportunities to think for ourselves are being rapidly diminished by an over-cautious, over-protective and over-bearing society that impinges on the personal liberties of its citizens by denying them such opportunities on an increasing basis.

Next time if it’s raining when I visit Homebase I shall take crampons with me, put them on and tell the cockend barring the exit door to fuck all the way off.

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One Response

  1. I think, as with some of the tabloid HEALTH & SAFETY FASCISTS!!!! scare stories, that the problem often lies not with the staff who enforce these orders (and I don’t disagree, they frequently enforce them very clumsily indeed) but with certain other members of our glorious Great British Public.

    Companies are in a tricky position… do they baby us all with every detail, or do they risk litigation from the dickheads who don’t understand that hot coffee can burn, that their 2-year-old IS GOING TO FALL down those steps, that hot weather makes you thirsty, etc? I guess what it all boils down to is that the people we really should be blaming for this sort of thing are the “no win no fee” personal accident lawyers.

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