In which our intrepid hero has another interesting retail experience.

Dear Woolworths,

Granted, it’s not every day that a 6’3″ man walks into one of your local stores shortly before lunchtime, to purchase nought but a packet of cotton buds and two kilograms of onions.

Nevertheless, I do not believe that such an event is of sufficient rarity to require your staff to stare at him as if he were some sort of pervert.

To set your minds at rest, I am more than happy to swear on any holy book, be it Bible, Qur’an, or Principia Discordia—and I can provide copies of all three, if required—that the local children need not fear me, nor my onions.

Thankfully, my depravity extends only so far as cooking the humble vegetable, and my imagination does not extend far beyond the recommended use of the aforementioned cotton buds.

If I have somehow offended your staff with erroneous notions as to the correct and proper use of the onion, then I apologise. Might I suggest, however, that if this is the case, then you take it upon yourselves to label each and every onion that you sell with detailed instructions.

Yours sincerely, the local weirdo,