First I went to the MEN Arena to buy a ticket for the Green Day gig there. Having handed my money over, the drone behind the counter asked my my postcode. I asked why on earth she needed that. "So I can open an account for you and sell you the ticket." she said. I don't want an account, i just want to buy a ticket. So I asked for my money back. Fuck 'em.
Then I went to take my jacket back. They didn't quibble, but again they wanted a name and address "for the refund". Well, I couldn't stop them having my name as they were putting the money back on my switch card, but I wouldn't give them my address. They sold me a faulty jacket, they can give me my money back without trying to impose their own conditions on it. I'm sick to death of being asked my address in order to carry out transactions that don't even slightly require it.
In my dazed state of mind, I didn't even register until I'd eaten most of it that I'd been charged 52p in the WH Smiths for a Cadbury's Caramel that should have cost 42p at the most. If I'd realised what was going on, I expect I would have told the till jockey to stick his Caramel up his arse and walked out of the shop haughtily. I did do a minor bit of civil disobedience by throwing the wrapper on the floor when I was walking back to the car park through the arena though.
Also, when I was walking back to the car the Girl Guide event that had been on in the Arena in the afternoon was throwing out, and the crowd was mustering for the Busted gig happening there tonight. Victoria Station was like The Birds, but with 12 year old girls, which was far more terrifying.