You Got Me

Last week, or some time in the not so distant past, I bought some beer with a friend. I think the whole ordeal set the high score for most face-palm worthy embarrassment in my mate's house.

Here's a pictorial overview of what happened. We saw this:

When it was actually this:

Smooth, eh? It's okay, it's not like they dedicated a third of the entire packaging to clearly advertise the fact it is non-alcoholic is it?

Grumble.

What's smoother is that we didn't realise for a whole 30 minutes after buying it. And we were off chuckling at our other friend because he dropped his beer at the counter. At least he bought alcoholic beer. What's smoother still is the fact that the fucking cash register lady asked us for ID and was stifling her laughter the whole time. This I personally didn't realise until my mate told me. What she was laughing at didn't click at the time. She must have known and was silently owning us all to all hell, the cackling harpy! Well lady, you know what? I hope that all you ever wanted was a baby and you get OVARIAN CANCER. MUHAHAA. As for Tesco, fuck Tesco. I'm not buying from Tesco again, and I will get my £3 back someday, even if I have to steal it in grapes over a 20 year period.

The price should have informed us there was something non-alcoholy about it all. It's not so out of the realms of possibility though. It could have been those shitty stubby bottles, or old stock, or some dodgy version of Becks, or plainly, just some major sale. I guess not though.

The worst part of all of this is that once we got back to my mate's house, we were actually leaving for the bar 2 minutes later; we never needed pre-drink alcohol to begin with!