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The fucking sales.


catmag
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Going out tonight with some old mates so I decided I would treat myself to a new top. Heads out in Manc to Market St (think Northumberland St) in the pissing rain and decided to take refuge in the Arndale Centre where most of the girlie shops are. Well it was fucking carnage. Every single shop I went in looked like a jumble sale and was full of screeching Manc bints who obviously (!) don't own a single item of clothing and so have to wrestle each other in pursuit of items of clothing that were all over the floor, half hanging off hangers, and so mixed up that it looked like a bomb had gone off at the Chelsea Flower Show. Not to mention that they all had at least 5 bursting-at-the-seams carrier bags which they bash into you at every opportunity, a pushchair, 3 other kids with them and some kind of retarded relative who isn't able to walk with any speed.

 

Next, Dorothy Perkins, River Island, Monsoon and H&M didn't get any custom from me today. I fucking hate shopping :lol:

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