Those bellends sat on the checkout counter who have just scanned your milk, morning newspaper, bread rolls, bacon, butter, brown sauce, litre bottle of water and 'share' bag of whatever chocolate or crisps they have sat by the checkout that day, who then turn round and ask you "would you like a bag with that?". Quite frankly, yes I fucking would like a bag with that. Just because it's pissing it down and blowing a gale outside, and I'm wearing my parka coat to protect myself from said gale, doesn't mean I have an infinite amount of pockets like fucking Rubeus Hagrid. Now give me a fucking bag. No, give me the bag, don't you start packing my shit. No stop it, don't put the bread rolls at the bottom of the bag, oh no fuck off, now don't put the bastarding milk and bottle of water on top of my bread rolls. Oh will you fuck off, don't put my newspaper on top of the bottle of water I got out of the fridge, therefore is covered in condensation you fucking inept ****. Oh you're done packing? Because I didn't have the bollocks to call you an inept ****, instead opting to stand there and smile at your "what more can we do to help" gesture of kindness, I'll now say thank you and wish you a good day.