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If there's one thing that's guaranteed to drive me to a little psychotic episode, it's going to Ikea. This was my third visit, and I was really tempted to rampage screaming through the store, randomly hacking at other shoppers with broken crockery from the "Bäng" range of colourful and inexpensive mugs.
Who plans these things? What sick, twisted **** decided to have the store layout designed by Daedalus just after he’d really perfected the labyrinth? I know they build those stores big, but surely it’s got to defy several laws of physics to have a 5-mile walk to get across a 50-foot room? It’s impossible to just pop in to pick up a chair- you’re forced to trudge for miles around “Smeg” kitchenware, “Fümbl” beds and extensive racks of glass storage vessels from the “Bøttl” range, just to pick up your sodding “Juusy” table.
I was picking up furniture that weighed over 60kg, and I’m not a Yak or a small Himalayan woman. No way am I carrying that weight around a big store. Unfortunately all the heavy-duty trolleys were in the hands of gormless old gits who were using them to transport a pack of “Spøøn” wooden cutlery and a lampshade by “Gøbshïte”. There were loads of trolleys in sight- but all safely barricaded behind barriers in the “staff only” section to keep the grubby little mitts of the proles off them. All those warning signs sternly reminding people not to lift over 30kg fall a bit flat when the staff would rather watch your spine snap than cease their bollock-juggling and actually do something helpful.
Final straw? Having to lift the pushchair over concrete bollards designed to stop people taking precious, precious trolleys into the car park, and presumably make life more varied and challenging for anyone saddled with a wheelchair or Zimmer frame. What is it about the Swedish mindset that causes things like this to be created? Minds addled by Abba, porn and Bergman films?
Bastards. The furniture’s rubbish too.
Who plans these things? What sick, twisted **** decided to have the store layout designed by Daedalus just after he’d really perfected the labyrinth? I know they build those stores big, but surely it’s got to defy several laws of physics to have a 5-mile walk to get across a 50-foot room? It’s impossible to just pop in to pick up a chair- you’re forced to trudge for miles around “Smeg” kitchenware, “Fümbl” beds and extensive racks of glass storage vessels from the “Bøttl” range, just to pick up your sodding “Juusy” table.
I was picking up furniture that weighed over 60kg, and I’m not a Yak or a small Himalayan woman. No way am I carrying that weight around a big store. Unfortunately all the heavy-duty trolleys were in the hands of gormless old gits who were using them to transport a pack of “Spøøn” wooden cutlery and a lampshade by “Gøbshïte”. There were loads of trolleys in sight- but all safely barricaded behind barriers in the “staff only” section to keep the grubby little mitts of the proles off them. All those warning signs sternly reminding people not to lift over 30kg fall a bit flat when the staff would rather watch your spine snap than cease their bollock-juggling and actually do something helpful.
Final straw? Having to lift the pushchair over concrete bollards designed to stop people taking precious, precious trolleys into the car park, and presumably make life more varied and challenging for anyone saddled with a wheelchair or Zimmer frame. What is it about the Swedish mindset that causes things like this to be created? Minds addled by Abba, porn and Bergman films?
Bastards. The furniture’s rubbish too.
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