Store detectives are always going to be suspicious of someone who patiently waits in a supermarket queue to pay for one item while all around trolleys groan under the weight of weekly grocery shops.

The checkout girl had just rung in a customer’s solitary purchase when the detective saunters across and politley asks him if he wants to buy anything else.

“No, my friend,” he says with an oily smile.

“Really?” says the guard tapping the customer’s coat pocket lightly.

Chocolate bar No.1 appears.

“Anything else?”

“No,” says the man with an admirably straight face that would have had them applauding in the eaves.

“What about in there,” says the guard tapping the other pocket.

Chocolate bar No.2 appears.

“And in there?” the guard says pointing to the bum belt.

“It’s just my passport in there. Nothing else,”  says the man looking affronted.

Out come a further five bars by which time we’re all laughing.

“Are you going to pay for all that,” says the guard good naturedly.

“No.”

“Off you go then.”

 

A workplace predator has been helping themselves to other people’s food in the communal work fridge.

It has raised the hackles of one individual who discovered their milk had been guzzled and posted an angry note on the wall.

I’d love to say: “It was me! It was me! How I cackled as I gulped it down smiling at the thought of you crunching on a bowl of dry bran flakes. You trustworthy fool!’

Sadly it wasn’t.

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