I went into a shop the other day to buy a pair of those cheap reading glasses, the sort that all the discount stores sell for around £1. (I needed to look through the Argos catalogue, you see, and I’d rushed out without my proper reading glasses.) I couldn’t find any, so I found an assistant instead and asked her:
‘Where are the cheap reading glasses?’
‘We don’t sell that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, come on. Everybody sells cheap reading glasses.’
A man’s voice called from the next aisle.
‘Poundland, mate. Next door.’
‘Next door? But I thought I was in Poundland.’
‘No,’ said the young woman indignantly, ‘this is a pet shop.’
She was the only one who didn’t find it funny.