‘Just popping into Waitrose for a loaf of bread darling, I’ll be home in 2 minutes’ = You may as well have just told me you’ve gone on a Mediterranean cruise for two weeks.

One of the many sayings which our dear mothers come out with. Other famous reoccurring quotes include: 

‘take your coat off you won’t feel the benefit when you go outside’ 

and ‘don’t eat those (10 wagon wheels) else you won't eat your tea'

Which is often responded by taking on that challenge to prove her wrong, resulting in going to bed feeling like a mixture between Augustus Gloop and Bruce Bogtrotter.

(Hahaha you got your comeuppance you fat fuck) 

Not forgetting that rhetorical question, 'would like you like some more?' no fucking choice you little porker, you're being force-fed.

Going back to the title, I’m never going to do this to my children. Because this has got to be the effing bane of any child’s life. Honestly the days when I was 8 years old trapped in the car for hours upon hours waiting, longing for my mother to emerge from the entrance doors was excruciating. I am positive if you add up all the hours this has taken up over two weeks of my entire life.

This is not something you can bring up lightly to mommy though, oh no, shit hits that fan if you do.

Why? Because if you’ve ever tried it the victim card strikes. Fuelling an emotional rollercoaster of anger, resentment and victimisation. How could you possibly blame them for that?!?!? Putting food on the table, throwing you the question ‘DO YOU THINK I LIKE SPENDING MY TIME FOOD SHOPPING’ (well yes MOTHER else you wouldn’t browse at every item and take the pace of a sloth).

 How is it their fault they went to get a loaf of bread and because they have to ‘feed the 5000’ (mom you were not in the Bible). They remember they needed this, and that and see this offer. Oh and Matthew loves peperami’s and then saw Daniel’s favourite pudding and he did do his mock maths GCSE this morning so how cruel if I didn’t treat him. 

I DON’T GIVE A FUCK MOM, I WANTED TO GO HOME AND PLAY WITH MY DOLL OR WATCH TRACY BEAKER OR MAKE A FUCKING FORT. 

But oh no it’s your fault if you bring it up. So I am going to make it my goal to not inflict such pain upon my children.

(How the fuck were they so popular anyway? Their advertisement is/was a combination of an angry shrivelled up penis/dog poo/frankfurter with boots on?)

Sadly at the ripe age of TWENTY BLOODY ONE. The mini break to the lake district AKA the ‘loaf of bread shopping trip’ happened. I have my own car, it pains me to recall this story but I have to. Please learn from this. Don’t trust her she may have carried you for 9 months, wiped your arse (hopefully not still doing so), nurtured you for a two centuries, but always question her motive. Mothers, even when their children are older still have 100100101 things on their mind.

So here goes.. phone call 3.30pm ‘Be ready in 10 minutes, we’re going for a cup of tea at waitrose, it’s Wednesday I have my free drink card (perk for 60+) and your Dad’s away on work so you’re coming with me (yeah cheers mom) it’ll just be a quick revision break, see you in two’.

No chance to respond as I clamber out of bed try and make myself look presentable, (pluck my chin/tame my eyebrows). Not only am I second choice (fuck sake need a love life), I didn’t even question the latter part of her deal ‘quick revision break’. And then it suddenly dawned on me as we entered the café of Waitrose that there was nothing quick about this outing.

Fuck. Sake. We. Have. One. Car.

And then it happened, we sat down with our drinks, and the head starts turning, the brain ticking, the endless roll of forgetfulness emerging.. 

breadfishchickentoiletpapericecreamgreekyoghurt. 

‘I could do with some…’ 

SHIT THE BED HERE SHE IS THE DECEIVER, THE WOMAN WHO CANNOT BE TRUSTED, SHE’S LURED ME HERE NOW I’M WELL AND TRULY FUCKED.

(No relevance just lightening the tone)

And yes I emerge from Waitrose at 5.15pm. I was there approximately an HOUR. AN HOUR.

I mean what the fuck is that, if men were a tad more efficient they would be sent to the shops and situations like this would be dodged. Oh no not my dad, every trip to the shop, you can guarantee at least two phonecalls “tell your mom they have no organic vegetables”. Use you’re fucking brain and get a substitute she’s not going to hold you at gunpoint (maybe a small slap dependent upon the degree of stupidity).

The moral of this story is do not go food shopping with your mother, do not believe her '2 minutes i promise' and if you do happen to fall for it make sure you reap the benefits. Punish her deceiving methods by packing the trolley with shit loads of e numbers, WKDs (or lambrini both effective) and lube/condoms (for the brave). She'll rethink lying to you again after the shop assistant has cast her judging eyes associating her with the C4's Shameless or old aged trailer trash. Muhahaha.

Hahahahahaha, irrelevant but what a great snap.