# classic english duckhead a quick study in which every time one travels to the local supermarket after five there's at least one cedrick also known as classic english duckhead one curses themselves for being even more stupid than these guys for wantonly choosing to go within fifteen lightyears of any corner shop frequented by these low watt gargoyles the two in there tonight not only fit the profile of a pair of ceds they positively transformed the whole damn place into a twaddock - ie a hangout for pillocks two skinny men in pink in ir late 30s but due to a wasted life of drink rugs and rampant systematic stupidity they looked a combined age of 100 now as a broad shouldered handsome man of vague asian heritage they of course noticed one as soon as they entered the store one immediately said here we go again hating one's own foolishness for coming to a desperate non place like this in the first place they talked about one in low voices making edgy comments guffawing to themselves and there's that damn laugh which died out in the early 60s with actor syd james but no here they were twin racist moranz one with a pink woolen hat on i bet a million billion dollars these two witless wonders think (if indeed that's even possible neurally) the world of clarkson-farage et al perhaps ey thought himself the kind of happy go lucky funster that wouldn't look amiss on one of those tv shows where intensely annoying dead eyed mannequins from essex spread ir legs for each other at the counter they were waiting two people back in the queue still chuckling and mumbling loudly and no you didn't make eye contact but stare straight ahead like henry rollins was a thick necked 'nam era assassin with special dark unseen forces practicing internal chinese martial arts suddenly one of them walked to the front of the queue and started repeatedly banging on the side of the plexiglass security door separating them from the staff working at the counter 'have you got any cases of beer darlin' said the voice in what must be considered one of the most laughably self-accidentally-parodying 'mockney hard man' accents ever produced by something resembling a human state of being everyone in the store who wasn't these two began to roll ir eyes and wait for the inevitable 'kick off' because everyone's a hard man when ir permanently drunk and has got ir bestest-evar mate with them right once again you imagine one day rolling with a tight crew of stone cold jacked internal martial mothers able to hand out casual beatdowns to existentially repellent flaming jockstraps like they were tickets at charity raffle day down at the local church no we don't sell cases replied the dog-tired staff member on the counter glad of a thick locked door and a dozen security cameras aim at these obnoxious anti-readers and stop banging that door they said loudly or i'll start the alarm to which they immediately went silent yeah what a surprise anyhow one packed and paid as quickly as possible and got the heck out of there preying they didn't follow you - afraid that is of having to lightly mutate both of these lords of the pile without significantly raising one's blood pressure - and also afraid of the chore of having to bother scraping one's boots clean afterwards oh if only one were a billion parsecs from this horrible little dislocation and these awful people they make researchers nervous and angry and want to pull random limbs off and beat idiots into common social sense mess with us you horrid pair of bigoted worms and you'll get a instant free simulation of a cool collected grizzly attack that will unpleasantly surprise to an existentially startling degree // republic of bob