Trolley Rage A Bastard's Barge Through the Tesco Inferno

Trolley Rage: A Bastard's Barge Through the Tesco Inferno By Owen Croft – The Shopper Who Can't Squeeze the Last Squirt from His Colgate-Smeared Soul Step aside, Dante. Hell has been repossessed by Tesco on a wet Tuesday in October, and Owen Croft is your foul-mouthed, cagoule-clad Virgil. This is not a shopping trip. This is a full-scale military fuck-up with a wonky trolley for a chariot, a bus shelter for purgatory, and a queue at the checkout that stretches clear to the seventh circle of frottage. From the moment the rain starts pissing down like God's got a grudge against the working class, to the final, soul-crushing unpack where the beans fight back and the ice-cream commits suicide on the lino, Trolley Rage is the blackest, bleakest, funniest descent into British supermarket hell ever committed to paper. Picture it: Pensioners weaponising handbags like medieval flails Toffs eye-fucking each other over organic courgettes before vanishing to shag in the Beamer Toddlers hurling Cornettos like fragmentation grenades The same slab-faced Slav bus driver who hates you personally And you – soaked, skint, and slowly losing the will to live – just trying to buy a packet of own-brand digestives without committing homicide. Written in a Mancunian snarl of pure, uncut bile, Trolley Rage is Irvine Welsh on a bad kebab, Martin Amis on benefits, and Jeremy Clarkson if he ever had to get the 43 to Wythenshawe. It's a love letter to the great British public written in pure hatred, a tragicomic odyssey of puddles, prams, and processed poison that will make you laugh so hard you'll snort lager out your nose – then immediately delete the Tesco app forever. If you've ever stood in the rain clutching a split carrier bag full of leaking Branston and wondered why the universe has singled you out for ritual humiliation, this book is your war memoir. Warning: May contain scenes of graphic trolley rage, unsolicited groin contact, and existential despair in the frozen pizza aisle. Reader discretion – and a strong stomach – advised.