No! That didn't just happen.

Mena is not happy! You wanna know why? Where are you going? Will you come back here? What do you mean you have stuff to do? Sit down my friend. Now listen…

As you might have read in my last blog I am being unfairly persecuted at work. All theses things they have said about me; It’s all lieeeeesss. Lies I tell you. I was feeling dopey so I decided to cheer myself up by doing some shopping. There I was in TK Maxx minding my own business and wondering why I couldn’t fit my delicate little tootsies into a pair of size 7 boots. Winter is fast approaching (yes I know it only May) and I need a new pair of boots. These are perfect. They are black, flat and long…very on trend. More importantly they are reduced to £29.99. Barrrrrrrrggaain!!! My leg must enter by force. I finally manage to zip them over my calves and hobble to the mirror to admire myself. Ok they pinch a bit but I’m sure that will pass. I’ve also lost all circulation in my lower region and I’m experiencing a peculiar tingling sensation. But I ain’t dead yet which means I should be able to manage them.

Brain to Mena: Shoes are too tight. Please return to the shelf and stop deceiving yourself.

Mena to brain: I am your master so I suggest you shut up with the unhelpful comments and start sending messages to the receptor cells in my feet telling them that they feel no pain.

Brain to Mena: have tried sending specified message but feet receptor cells are not responding. I fear they may all be dead.

Fine! I’ll take off the shoes but let it be known brain that I am not happy with your inability to withstand pain for fashion. As I struggle to remove my now swollen feet from the accursed boots I spot a woman heading towards my general direction. I eye her suspiciously. Has she spotted my boots? No! She can’t have them. They hurt like hell but I refuse to let another woman walk away with my on trend designer bargain whilst I’m forced to wear thick orthopaedic shoes from Clarks after killing all the cells in my feet. I’d rather buy them and just put them in my closet until my feet miraculously shrink than let her have them.

She stands a few meters away pretending to look at stuff and then finally approaches me.

"Sorry I couldn’t help noticing that the shoes you’re trying on were a bit tight. Do you mind if I try them on"?

Lady, hell yes I mind. Don’t come slinking over here with your I’m so skinny and hot I might just burst into flames attitude. But naturally being sane I didn’t say all that. I just put on my dealing with crazy members of the public persona, smiled and said

"I’m sorry but I’ve decided to get them".

"Oh, are you sure??? You did look very uncomfortable".

Ah ah ! Na fight? Did my feet write you a letter of complaint or what part of bugger off, I’m getting the shoes did you not get?

"I’m quite sure but thanks for your concern".

I quickly gather up my too small boots and head to the till. Standing on the line, waiting to pay I’m starting to have 2nd thoughts. Was I really going to buy these instruments of torture just because I don’t want someone else to have them? Hell yeah! Who cares if I never wear them? I’ll save them for Baskelina... mine and Basky’s love child. I’m sure they will be back on trend by the time she’s old enough.

"Excuse me" says a voice behind me.

It better not be skinny jeans chick or I might just snap and whooop her ass.

I turn round and gasp in horror as I am confronted by a clown thrusting a card in my face. On closer inspection I realise it’s just a lady wearing waaaaaayyyy too much neon eye shadow and unattractive clothes in primary colours


I take the proffered card, read it and realise that right here in TK Maxx, the home of designer bargains, my enemies have sent one of their minions to find me. They know I have promised not to sepe in exchange for not having to spend another millennium as a single and maybe unemployed woman. So they are taking advantage of the situation. People, her card read

Helga Putski
Specialising in makeovers, style advise and colour mapping.

I eye her slowly wondering why this woman in florescent eye shadow felt the need to annoy me. What exactly had she seen that made her think I needed her services?? Is she blind or can’t she see I’m already a vision of loveliness in my Island Cosmetics (You can all laugh. The lipstick I’m wearing is 99 pence and apart from a slight stinging sensation and an inability to feel the right side of my face, it’s just as good as Mac. I will need all my dole money for food so time to start looking for alternatives to my luxury brand)? Not to mention the fact that I am buying this seasons “it” boots. Are those the actions of someone that needs style advise? OK! My hair might be a tad due but I’m hot enough to get away with it. Anyway if her eye shadow and panda eyelashes were anything to go by there was no way in hell I was letting her near me. The age of disco is dead woman. Keep your day glo colours to yourself.

I give her back her card, smile sweetly and say thanks but no thanks. She looks shocked.

"Are you sure? The consultation is free and I really think you could benefit from it".

OK! Enough is enough. I took the 1st insult on the cheek but now it’s going too far. I only promised not to sepe, I didn’t say anything about not throwing tight designer shoes at people.

“I’m really not interested thank you all the same“.

“OK that’s fine. Maybe you might be interested in my other services” she says offering me another card.

I sigh and take the card out of politeness and read the words

Helga Putski
Immigration Lawyer

"Who sent you"?

"I beg your pardon"

"You are begging my pardon? I SAY WHO SEND YOU COME?? Ta lo ron e wa" ?

"I’m sorry I don’t understand what you are saying" she says starting to shuffle away.

"Where are you going? Sebi you want to be helpful. Come here let me help you be helpful". I said heading towards her.

"No really it’s quite alright. I didn’t mean to offend you".

"You imply that I look like an unattractive illegal immigrant then you say you didn’t mean to offend me? Na lie! You cannot say that and get away with. Come here and let me show you something".

I reach into my handbag and...

“Securityyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!” Help me she’s got a gun!!!

What the hell?! What gun? I was going to show her my Pali with 100% authentic visa.

Next thing I know I am being tackled to the floor by some overzealous gorilla in an unattractive red TK Maxx t-shirt, my hand bag is ripped from my hand and my “it” boots go flying through air and right into the arms of skinny jeans chick.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!! My boots!!!!! Get off me you pillock. She’s stealing my boots.

And so she was. Skinny Jean chick was making a run for it to the nearest till and the girl wasn’t looking back. In the meantime I was having my face shoved into the unwashed floor of TK Maxx surrounded by a crowd of cheapskate shoppers who can’t pay full price for designer stuff. This soooooo cannot be happening.