Never go shopping with a male

Cupboard's empty. Damn. That means shopping. Shopping means Spike. Spike and shopping don't mix. If I leave him at home he will most likely sulk for the remaining day. Sulky Spike means no butterscotch kisses or ear massages. Disaster. Must have ear massage even if it means Spike goes shopping. Purse is lying on table amongst tangle of weapons and banana skins draped artistically over remote control, rather like a deflated mouse. Purse smells suspiciously like monster and is reluctant to be removed from table. Squeezed bottle of superglue lying innocently nearby. Damn Spike. Damn Spike's messy housekeeping and banana fetish. Finally procure monster-smelling, superglued purse from the ravishes of the table with a loud ripping noise. Refuse to look at remaining purse glued pathetically to armoured table.

Gather car keys. Where's Spike? Bloody Spike. Find Spike with bowl of pig's blood and weetabix, a nasty combination, and explain empty-cupboard-means- shopping-trip situation. Spike whinges about having to go with me and erupts into squalling rage when offered to stay home. Men. God's strangest creatures. Have no desire to understand males, only control them as an uncontrollable male is a dangerous thing indeed.

Spike whines his pale bum to the car, only to succumb to the love affair with the rear-vision mirror. Vain male. Keys refuse to bring car to smoky life. After several cuss-filled moments realise am using house key. Disaster. Spike smirks at my blonde incompetents as car roars to life, creating a hole in the ozone over the garage at the same time. If pollutants got jail this car would get life. Trundle down to local supermarket. Sodding hell. Parking gnome has stolen all the parks. Take out my anger on accelerator. Spike looking rather pale.er. See a wayward park many light years from supermarket entrance but a corpse has more options than I do parks so grand prix my way over to it. Damn granny driver stole my park. Stop smirking Spike or I'll tie you to the exhaust pipe. Spike sinks into male sulks amongst mentholated cloud of cigarette smoke. Finally found another park, never minding the location. Migrations have shorter distances. Drag Spike from car only to lose him to nearby trashy convertible. Threaten Spike with blood withdrawal. Spike begins squalling, spreading untruths and male opinions about everything he has the lungs to say, from women to blondes to PMS. I am gonna kill this male soon. Spike whip cracks sulks away and gallops off to butchers to buy ten gallons of porker blood. Gross. Damn vampire eating habits. A Lojack would have a hard time finding him in this crowd. Finally spot him, chatting up butcher chick. Winks at me placatingly before obediently following me into actual supermarket. Kill for a latte but am promptly reminded of purpose and returned from coffee-based delusion to yellowed linoleum and impatient male.

Up bakery aisle. No bread. This is a freaking bakery aisle and there is no freaking bread. Reverse shopping cart and speed towards frozen foods. Knock over old granny en route. Was old granny who steamrollered me out of rightfully owned park so leave her and her arthritic hip in dairy aisle and fly down frozen foods. Feel like a renegade. Spike's disappeared again. Cart tracks in lane as make a derby dash for previous position. Damn you Spike. He's helping Uber-granny and her hip of linoleum. Trots up to me with male smugness of species, glowing like a radioactive halo. Make greyhound dash back to frozen bread only to find youth shelter coordinator taking the last dozen loaves. No bread left now. Spike wisely out of reach.

Finished most of shopping now. Must not go through lolly aisle. Must not go through lolly aisle. Ahhh Spike! Jeez Spike he's down the sodding lolly aisle. Will power tested to max as Spike escapes female grasp and chooses own lollies in manner of hunter-gatherer. Am forced to chase him down lolly aisle with all manner of sweets beckoning me. Catch Spike and chase him down to the registers. Discover amount of shopping has doubled and am now proud owner of more boxes of weetabix and bottles of peroxide than you could throw a vamp at. I am going to kill Spike. Never ever take men shopping, even if you do miss out on ear massages. Oh well, will just have to ration the telly. What else is on during Passions?...