Sunday Trading

Four ‘orseman of the apocalypse were in Asda earlier. Shopping for a kiddies party, a barbecue I reckon.

No one stopped ’em. No dogs t’sign says.

The one ont white horse bought them lamb kebabs yer Dad likes.

Wharever that one ont red horse ‘ad t’seal were broke, dripped blood downt toiletry aisle he did. Right mess it were. And he ‘ad a plastic sword tucked under his arm he dint pay for.

Third had trouble wit scales ont self service checkout. Nearly dropped his oil and wine. We’ve all been there int we?

Picked right day for barbecue mind.

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