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This is a pretty special £1 coin, I acquired it last week, probably when I went to the Milton Keynes branch of Morrisons to buy some bread rolls. I’m a big fan of bread rolls, and will often take advantage of the 5 for £1 offer they have there to buy myself a selection of several dozen rolls to eat over the course of the day. I try to arrive early in the morning when the rolls are still warm. I will then get them home and cut them open, and cover them in low-fat olive spread (or butter if available). Sometimes if I’ve bought a cottage roll I won’t even cut them open, I’ll smother the top of the roll in low-fat olive spread (or butter) and eat them that way. I’m never satisfied by the amount of rolls I’ve eaten. I’ve talked to several other roll enthusiasts over the internet, most of them seem to find the rolls erotic. This isn’t a feeling that I share. Usually after I’ve eaten a dozen or more of their delicious rolls I’ll begin a yeast-influenced vomiting fit. I find this is the most physically demanding part of my roll fixation, and it’s certainly the part that people find the most socially unacceptable.  

Anyway, I probably acquired this coin last week as I was in the Milton Keynes branch of Morrisons, purchasing several bags full of bread rolls. I also decided to buy several packets of their own brand instant noodles (also on offer at 5 for £1), I bought two packets of chicken flavour, two packets of barbecue flavour, and one packet of chow mein flavour. I haven’t eaten any of these noodles yet, as they don’t fin in to my dietary regime. What I have done though is carefully arrange them in my kitchen cupboard, you see the noodle packets are very colourful. The colour of a packet of chicken noodles is a bright lime green, chow mein is a sky blue, and barbecue is bile yellow. I’m hoping that they will soon extend the range of instant noodles available, so I will be able to purchase new flavours with new brightly coloured packaging. I will then be able to colour code my noodle packets and arrange them so I have rainbow-coloured kitchen cupboards. I’ve already begun arranging my cupboards as colour-theory is a complicated and time-consuming subject, and I want to make sure I can colour-code my cupboards as soon as new flavours are released.

So I was at the Milton Keynes branch of Morrisons, about to purchase my bread rolls and colour-coded noodles. I arrived at the self-service till point, only to find a queue of ten other people. I’ve been using self-service tills exclusively since at least 2008, and now I don’t shop anywhere that I have to talk to someone. As a general rule I try to keep all human contact to an absolute minimum. If anyone knocks on my front door I will only converse with them through the letterbox.
There were ten people in this queue, all of them in close proximity to me, several of them were having conversations with each other and their words were reaching my ears which is just as bad as if they were talking directly to me. I also don’t like the look of the woman they have guarding the self-service tills there sometimes. She looks at people with her eyes, and I find that very disconcerting. Next to the lines of self-service tills they do still have the express tills, and one of them was open, there was only one customer and he was almost finished. I felt that perhaps in this one instance it will be better for me to avoid all the horrid people in this queue and go to the relative tranquillity of the express till, even if that means going to a regular till for the first time in at least two years.

An old man was in front of me, he was almost finished, but he was having a hard time keeping track of what was going on. Even though all his shopping had been scanned, I was still left waiting. I counted seventeen people who managed to get through the self-service tills in the amount of time it took me to get served. It took the old man five attempts on two different credit cards to type in the correct pin number.  I was feeling agitated, desperate to get home before the rolls cooled down, and feeling the tremors of an oncoming bread-related vomiting fit again. It looked like the cashier knew what stress this delay was causing me, and this made me think that maybe other people have feelings too. The cashier hurried the old man along, and I tried to pack my shopping as quickly as possible. It was all over very quickly, and when I handed over my money the cashier gave me this £1 coin in change. I left the building as quickly as I could, making sure I didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

I’m very certain this £1 coin contains some kind of magical properties. As I walked home with my shopping and my noodles and my lucky £1 coin I was attacked by a youth. He didn’t mug me however, because this coin is lucky, and he only punched me on the parts of the face that don’t hurt. My dad told me that he also got two lottery numbers come up on the Saturday draw, this is only one number away from winning £10, and only four numbers away from winning the jackpot.  I would consider donating this coin to science so that science may understand the magical properties present within the coin, and hopefully be able to replicate them for the good of mankind, but I am worried that when I hand the coin over I will not be lucky anymore, and that the scientist may indeed win the lottery or some other large monetary prize, and that the relevant authorities will not believe me when I say all the money belongs to me because of the lucky coin. Then I’ll be left with no money and no lucky coin.

I am however willing to sell this coin, hopefully one of you will be a scientist who will be able to study the molecular properties of the coin. All proceeds will go towards rolls and low-fat olive spread, or perhaps butter.