Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Old bag

I don't remember if I actually heard this on the radio or whether it was on a sketch show. I like to think I imagined it and therefore came up with it myself but I can't claim that. Whatever the truth is, it didn't matter greatly and if I'm infringing someone's copyright then I whole heartedly apologise and will send you a banker's draft for 50% of all profits I make from this post.

It was a talk show. On the radio. They were discussing the possible UK "sugar tax" where products with a high sugar content would incur more tax in an effort to prevent poor people from struggling to find the funds for bigger shell suits. They did not address the obvious question: how much will a bag of sugar cost? However one caller couldn't envisage any benefits:

"Why would a higher cost make people stop? Sure they brought in the carrier bag charge and that hasn't worked on me. Whenever I go to the shops now, I take my own bag! Doesn't cost me a penny!"

While we're on the subject of bags for life... I've been living in Ireland for very nearly three months and have probably been to a big shop shop fifteen times. Little shops, even when performed in big shop shops don't count. For some unknown reason you are sometimes given a bag in little shops whether it's a little or a big shop and if not a bag then it's as likely to be a box. But let's ponder that another time.

Of those fifteen big shop shops, I'd say I've remembered to bring one or more of my lifelong bag partners a grand total of once. That leaves thirteen occasions where I've been forced to buy further bags for life and where I used to have an under-sink full of the UK's flimsy freebies, I now have most of a wardrobe full of the imperishable blighters.

I'm sure one day I'll remember to reuse them and they'll become part of the pre-shopping routine:
- keys? Check.
- wallet? Check.
- phone? Check.
- valium? Check.
- bags for life? Check.
But until that frankly miserable-sounding day arrives, I'm going to continue accumulating and propping up the flourishing durable bag industry.

I would say I've so far spent around €19,000 on the fuckers and I'm at a loss as to what to do with them. Something does have to be done, however, before they take over entire rooms and before eventually forcing us to leave the house. I can't go down the usual 'chuck them out the window' route as they'd probably get caught in the wind and decapitate a Friesian. I can't burn them; it's impossible; they're not called "bags for a while until you chuck them on the fire" for a reason.

So this is the reason I am up at 5.30 in the morning: I'm wandering the streets looking for bag ladies to offer them a better class of accommodation. Well, that's my explanation and I'm sticking to it. 

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