Tesco really is a home from home for patriots.
That is, if being patriotic means having to endure gurning chavvy faces painted with the St George's cross staring from every poster, cynically branded products (official World Cup tampons anyone?), and having to push one's way through vast hordes of chav scumbags desperately scrabbling for 12 packs of shitty beer and nasty cheap meat to slap on their crap barbecue.
Oh, and I know that 'chav' is not politically correct. I know that I'm apparently labelling a whole load of quite possibly lovely people with a middle class snooty categorisation. But I need to have a word for the kinds of people who can't close their mouths. Who appear to be actually neanderthal. Who can't wear clothes that cover their bellies or their ass cracks. Who tattoo their girlfriend's name on their face. You know the kind of people I mean. You do. You totally do. Even if you're all PC and right on. You still know what I mean. Stab you as soon as look at you. Those ones.
Anyway, I fucking HATE TESCO.
Don't go then, right? Is that what you're saying? Well, thing is I live on a tiny island that boasts very little choice. As much as I would like to patronise all the organic, wonderful local shops selling fresh produce that isn't branded to appeal to the lowest common knobhead, there aren't any.
What there is is the biggest Tesco I've ever seen. It sells everything, from your basic shitty England T-shirt to England branded beer, crisps and snacks for the discerning football watcher.
I don't think that it is the case, but according to Tesco the World Cup has turned everyone, without exception into rabid, mindless drones who are OBSESSED with England and their chances. COME ON ENGLAND it says everywhere you look.
What about the majority of us, Tesco? What about the people who just want to go and buy their unsalted nuts and kale and don't want to have to run the gauntlet of hordes of shitty advertising? What about them? I remember when Tesco was attempting to raise itself above the very low bar it set itself in the 80s. Doesn't seem like they are now.
Still, every little helps, right? Especially if you are the kind of person who has covered their entire house with England flags and are planning to spend the next month drinking shit beer and painting your face in red and white.
COME ON ENGLAND, BRING IT HOME. Do me a fucking lemon.