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2004-10-07 - 10:49 p.m.

Farenheit Have You Got A Clubcard?

Yesterday I stopped off at the supermarket on my way home. The woman on the checkout put my items through the till and asked me for the total, which was �9.11.

�That�s nine eleven, love.� She said. Then, after a moment, �Ooh, that�s terrible, isn�t it?�

Yes. She was perturbed because the total cost of my groceries was numerically the same as the date of a historic terrorist attack on the World Trade Centre.

If this were not extraordinary enough, consider the fact that without further explanation, I immediately understood what she meant.

Such, of course, has become the associative power of those two numbers. Two simple numbers which for centuries could have been read consecutively without any sense of significance but have now gained such import that when coincidentally spoken by a woman on a London supermarket checkout, they create an immediate frisson of unease. �Ooh that�s terrible, isn�t it?� I understood. On a certain level, yes, it�s terrible. Then again, on every other level, no. It�s just the price of my shopping. Relax. The way she slightly recoiled almost suggested that the numbers on the till had actually revealed me as a terrorist, as surely as if I�d been walked through Heathrow customs wearing a Semtex bikini and damning Bush and Blair to twist on Satan�s fiery cock for eternity. Speaking of which, it�s a good job I bought the cheese and the orange juice, as otherwise I think my groceries would have come to �6.66 and the poor woman would�ve had a heart attack.

Ooh, that�s terrible, isn�t it?�

Even though I understood, I could think of nothing to say. So she clarified her comment. I forget her exact words, but they were something like, �You know, the planes in America.�

�Yes.� I said. Then for some reason added, �I didn�t do it on purpose, you know.�

�Oh, I know.� She said.

I pressed on. �Anyway, it�s only nine eleven in America. It�s really eleven nine, of course.�

�Yes.�

Now, perhaps believing it would comfort her, it seemed of paramount importance to impress on this woman the illogical nature of month-day-year sequencing in the standard US date abbreviation. �They do it the wrong way round.�

�Yes, � agreed the woman behind me in the queue, �they do everything the wrong way round, the Americans�.
The woman on the checkout chuckled. In a few short moments I had taken a beat of spontaneous reflection and sympathy for the American people and turned it into an exercise in dismissive piss-taking.

Friends, the alliance is strong.


How am I driving?
7 pennyworths so far

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude



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