Ten Items or Less

I only have a little space for this entry as I am restricted to 25 words:-

When I walked up to get a newspaper at the weekend I was amazed at how many people get up early to go shopping. It must have got to the stage where it would be better to get up late and find everyone else has finished and gone home.
I only wanted a paper, well I wanted a bar of chocolate too but as I reached for it I heard that woman off the telly, you know the one, McKeith, shouting in my ear, "Its full of fat, Don't you know how much sugar there is in enjoying yourself". I am thinking of taking her to court, she has ruined my life. Every time I see something nice to eat or drink there she is, screaming, it will kill me if I dare to buy it.
So I moved carefully past the chocolates and battled the voices in my head "go on I dare you" "Its full of fat" "yes but its so nice" " I can't believe you would buy such rubbish" and eventually got to the checkout.
I nearly made the mistake of going to the new self scan self pay one, but call centre automation leaves me screaming at computer voices so I could not trust myself not to smash the hell out of a checkout telling me "sorry the bar code is not recognised, please key in the 2000 digit number followed but a 500 word description of the item", so I went to the 10 items or less.
I know now, because I saw it as I left the shop, that I could have paid for a newspaper at the tobacco counter but I thought I would risk taking the paper and the 25 inserts that come with a weekend paper through as less than 10 items.
Ok, yes, I know it's sill but as I queued I could not help but notice the woman 2 in front had taken 11 items through. What is it with these people, it's less than 10, not less than 12 or 15 its 10. But the checkout operator doesn't say a word, just "have you got a club card" then takes the money.
Then I see it, the basket of the next woman. It's a good job I don't work there, 17 items, mostly tins of cat food. Its less than 10, what is so bloody difficult about that. Then out comes a wad of discount vouchers, none of which the computer accepts and each are scanned and handed back.

I have got rid of McKeith from my head and now have Mr angry shouting "for Christ sake you are already treading on thin ice with 17 items, just pay and leave" .
Some how I, and the queue behind me, remain calm and pretend counting goes 1-9, 17, 10.