Retail therapy

It seems blokes have to learn some things the hard way. (These events are, of course, purely imaginary. No, really they are.)


“I need a new handbag. My old one’s worn out,
I expect it’s the way that I use it.
The shops won’t be busy now, no-one’s about;
Do come with me and help me to choose it.

I know what you’re thinking: ‘Oh no, what a chore!’,
But without you I might get it wrong.”
Well, I fell for it, just as I’ve fallen before,
“Okay, if it won’t take too long.”

So we get to the shops, and she looks at the bags,
And none of them seem to be right.
(Just as well – did you notice the price on those tags?
They’ve given my wallet a fright.)

“It’s no good,” she says, “what we need is a shop
That offers a wider selection.”
I ought to know better but, caught on the hop,
We seek a designer collection.

“Now that’s a nice bag,” she says, “it’s a name
That will give me some cred on the street,
But I’ll need some new shoes. Well, it would be a shame
If the bag were shown up by my feet.”

Then what? Let me guess: first a skirt, then a blouse,
Pair of trousers (“do they make me look fat?”),
Fancy underclothes (just to embarrass her spouse),
Then some earrings, a coat and a hat . . .

Can you see where we’re heading? The slippery slope
Where shopping goes out of control.
Make her see reason, that’s my only hope,
Or it could take a terrible toll.

Can women see reason? I give it a try:
“Where will it all end, dear!” I joke.
“Look, I need all these things, can’t you see?”, her reply;
“And I think I might need a new bloke . . .”

[Image: mirror.co.uk]
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