How do ASDA make their in-store playlist?
I nipped to ASDA this evening with my housemate Leo in order to pick up a few bits, chiefly meat, since I had already done my weekly shop at Sainsbury's but omit meat from my shopping list there since it costs about 7 quid for some wafer thin not-quite turkey.
Now I understand that all supermarkets have their drawbacks:
For M&S it's the lack of brand - no Coca Cola, no BabyBel, no PJs.
For Morrisons the major drawback is their guantanamo bay floor layout - virtually no lighting, nauseatingly thin aisles, agressive failed marines on the fish counter etc.
For Waitrose it's the embarrassingly large selection of ice cream and the fact that the check-out queue looks like a scene from Night of the Living Dead.
For Tesco it's their disgustingly cone-headed book section which offers the works of Jordon against a backdrop of 'the painful lives' genre and the true Fred and Rose West story.
ASDA are perhaps my favourite supermarket. Their prices are so dirt cheap they may as well be giving food away, they give lime green a role in life and of course they have George which is amazing if you want to buy clothes only to then rip them up, paint them and customise them before a fancy-dress party (although sadly some people do actually shop in George as if the racks were pret-a-porter). But what is the drawback to ASDA? The answer smacked me in the face this evening just as I was on the brink of choosing which Crunch Corner to get (I know the chocolate cornflakes with banana yoghurt are the best, but I al-l-l-ways get that one) I was in the midst of this pleasant dairy-based decisiveness when suddenly the instore speakers launched proudly into 'Elvis Ain't Dead' - that awful song by Scouting for Girls.
Scouting for Girls are terrible in general, they sound like a small boy who has just trapped his finger in a closing door, they look like the people you wish you never gave your number to in fresher's week, and I'm pretty glad I have no idea what they smell or taste like. But 'Elvis Ain't Dead' is their worse song by far. The lyrics at best are an abridged version of Dolly Parton "since you been gone I can do what I like", and at worst are a relentless repetition of an uninteresting cliche. The main riff also captures the feeling of a dedicated masturbation session where all parties involved cannot wait for the end, not because of the thrill it will bring, but because it will be the end.
There are three contexts to the photo of this band (pictured above) that I could come up with:
1) They are paying a visit to the area from which most of their fans originate
2) Glasto organiser Emily Eavis spotted a flop and gave them the wrong address
3) They are still searching for Elvis and suspect Welsh villages of harbouring him
Once my attention was focused on ASDA's in-store playlist I was exposed to further horrors though - James Blunt, Dido and... and... dare I type it... Daphne & Celeste. It was as if ASDA wanted us to fall to our knees with our hands on our ears and vomit all over their reflective flooring. Who actually chooses the music they play in there? Okay fair enough, James Blunt and Dido are enjoyed by enough plebeians to understand their residency on an ASDA playlist, but Daphne & Celeste .... DAPHNE & CELESTE!
My mind then began to contemplate the meaning behind the name Scouting for Girls... is it
a) They are helping some female models to get work
b) They are offering a female equivalent of the historic and sodomitical childhood past-time of scouting, traditionally only available to boys
c) They are on the hunt for hot girls (in which case if they mean obtainable ones then they could be hunting for a very long time)
A few minutes later the little man at the check-out asked Leo and I for our postcode, he said ASDA were running a survey to decipher the size of the area that they cater for in Leeds (obviously he didn't use a word like decipher, I'm paraphrasing from memory). I gave him my postcode and felt guilty.. because ASDA will forever think that they cater for LS6 in Leeds.. when in actuality I plan never to return to their musically torturous empire.
Not until the next fancy-dress invite arrives at least.