The Checkout Game

The Checkout Game

The Internet is a wonderful thing. I really mean it. I can’t imagine life without it. When I need something, be it directions to a mate’s house, or instructions on how to fix my boiler, the Internet has always come up trumps. Well it’s time to give something back, and in this spirit I present…

The Checkout Game.

The Origins of the game

Some background is first required. I can reveal that since birth I have been a Heterosexual Male. Not a particularly spectacular example (apart from last night according to my wife), but two boxes I can definitely be placed in are those of Heterosexual and Male. This fact means two things. Firstly, I hate queuing. I mean I have a real deep rooted hatred of it. I like most men will walk out of a shop, and walk the twenty minute walk to the next shop just to avoid a five minute queue. Now I’m not stupid and I know that with the return walk that’s a net loss of thirty five minutes. But it means my expectant life span has not been reduced due to the stress of queuing, so in the end I’m up on the deal. Secondly I like women. I mean I really like them, I like talking to them, I like looking at them, and hell – yeah, I’ll admit it, I like fantasising about them.

Sometimes I find queuing unavoidable; visits to Ikea, supermarkets, and sandwich shops at lunch time, all necessitate queuing. For this reason I devised The Checkout Game.

NOTE: The rules below are devised for Heterosexual Males. Other genders and persuasions can feel free to modify the rules as appropriate, although Bisexuals will have an unfair advantage.

The Rules

• The game starts from the moment you join a queue.
• The game finishes from the moment you leave a queue (determined by the taking of goods purchased, and any change/receipt.
• Within this time you have to choose a member of the checkout queues, or serving/till staff.
• You may make your selection from any checkout in the shop.
• People ‘in play’ are those who are a member of a queue (determined by the same rules determining when the game starts and ends for an individual player) or till operatives.

Examples:
If someone is paying when you join a queue they are IN PLAY
If someone joins the back of the queue while you are paying, they are IN PLAY.
If someone has taken their goods and change just before you join a queue they are OUT OF PLAY

• Once selected, you must mentally undress and make love with your selection (note the ‘mentally’ part, attempting any physical interaction results in instant disqualification, and probably a slap round the face).
• You MUST make a selection before the game ends (before you have left your queue).
• Once a selection is made you may NOT change your mind.
• You may NOT retrospectively make a selection (after you or your selection has left a queue).

Strategy

This game really comes into it’s own when faced by a poor selection of people ‘in play’ (M&S on Monday afternoons can guarantee a selection of over 60’s). If a nice older lady is about to leave the queue, do you hold out for a nicer example to join? This would be a high risk strategy.

On a nice summer day you might be a like a kid in a sweetshop. Be warned though that being spoilt for choice can impede decision making.

Some days you may be forced to make an unpalatable selection. It might weigh heavy on your mind as you mentally ‘get down to it’, after all you consciously made the selection. Take it like a man, you will have more good days than bad.

Enjoy

I have been playing this game for the past two years now, and must say my problem with queuing has long gone. Feel free to suggest rule changes or comment on any notable good or bad games you have had.

Milkmen do what?

Well, what’s with the blog title I hear you all cry. Well, I came up with it for one of two reasons:

1. 1. All the good ones had been used already.
2. 2. In three words it speaks volumes about how English culture has changed in the 30 years I have been on God’s green planet.

Okay it’s actually a bit of both. The first reason takes no explanation, but I’m sure there is a fair degree of purplexation (yep, I just invented a new word, and now it’s on the Interweb it’s official) regarding the second. Well firstly we need a bit of history…

A couple of years ago I worked with possibly the best team of guys I have ever worked with. We had that work hard play hard mentality which is a lot harder to achieve that you would think. As part of office law, any stupid comments that were uttered in the course of a normal working days banter were recorded for prosperity. A small selection of quotes from the team being…

“Voluntary Service.. So did you have to do it?”
“I’m on target, but how many days have I got left?”
“..people assume I want to be with someone on New Years Eve, but I can sort myself out”

Now in one coffee break I was lamenting the demise of the milkman. This was predictably challenged by my college and friend George, who argued that the milkman was a dinosaur, had been evolved out of existence, and provided no benefit to society in the modern world. My immediate response was (I’m sure you’re one step ahead at this point) "Well, Milkmen save peoples lives”. Unfairly this comment was met with hoots of derision and added to the list of funny quotes. Obviously I did not leave the matter there, as I knew my assertion to be true I sent the following proof to colleagues within the hour via the medium of email (like I said, work hard play hard);

Milkman delivers milk, saves family from fire

Milkmen Lifesavers

Despite proving my point, the discussion made me think about the humble milkman. I bet there are kids in this country who aren’t even familiar with the concept of the milkman, having grown up never seeing one. They are probably thought of as a quaint concept from ‘the olden days’, like how I think of Black and White Television for my parents generation. The old English joke that ‘your wife is shagging the milkman’ is kind of redundant now. The milkman no longer visits, it’s more likely to be the Amazon delivery guy, and as we all know when he does call your wife is out – at work! We buy our milk at a fraction of the price we did, from supermarkets that apparently pay the farmers a pittance. We used to know our milkman (my mum made us call him uncle Dave when he came round for his ‘special visits'). Milkmen did provide a service, and a sense of community. Both of which are now disappearing.

On the bright side – Cheap Milk!

In the beginning there was Lighthouse....

Well then, Ladies and Gentlemen from around the world, I'd like to welcome you to my Blog. This is apparently the thing to do in the digital age, and I must admit, is something I swore I'd never do, but more on that later. Firstly I feel I must introduce myself.

Before I do the introductions however, I must explain my dilemma. One I'm sure that is shared by other bloggers (as I'm now in the club). Do I try and retain a certain degree of anonymity, allowing me to blog away without fear of reprisal, personal embarrassment, or incurring the wrath of friends and family. Or do I blog in my own name, telling anyone who will listen about my international blogging success (let's aim high for now), yet loosing the ability to blog with impunity. Well I have been thinking long and hard and I'm going to attempt the former, to a degree. I will not be censoring myself (after all that’s what the Interweb is all about – except in China of course), and may let a few friends know about my blog, but not broadcast it, especially to those whom I might offend (farmers navigate away now). I’m certain if someone I knew were to put the pieces together they will work out who I am, but hey, what are the chances of that happening?

So, finally the introduction. In the interests of retaining a certain degree of anonymity, I would describe myself as a one legged dwarf with blue hair. I live in a lighthouse, drive a red car, and can be seen about town every week, where you might spot me impersonating buses and heavy goods vehicle as they reverse.. BEEP.. BEEP.. BEEP. Well, at least one fact there was true ;-)