The Face Off: a bit more about why I hate kiddies

I started this a while ago, and I might even provide a link.

By kiddies I mean the boys with hardly an excuse to purchase the means with which to shave sprouting about the ends of their spotty chins. I mean the girls in skirts the size of belts and nylon shirts that gape where they should cling and reveal what they should only hint at.

They stagger into the store on Friday nights in groups, vulgar and intimidating. They sway up the alcohol aisle, clasp alcopops their chests, secrete themselves in the public toilets en masse and consume.

If disturbed they put the evidence down the lavatory, or climb up to hide it behind the ceiling tiles.

For the most part they either steal what they want or pay some older person to purchase it. I suppose to some extent their approach just depends on how cashed up mummy and daddy are.

I don't hate kiddies because they are spotty, don't yet need to shave, swagger or wear intrinsically unattractive unflattering clothes. I hate kiddies because they are so Stupid.

One night recently I was called out of the office by one of the operators to look at an ID that had been offered to her as proof of sufficient age to purchase alcohol.

I looked at it, I looked at the queue, I grew increasingly conscious of the long queue of people. I held it in my right hand, the two would be customers stood to my right. I refused to accept the ID. One of the kiddies took the ID from between my fingers and in that split second afterwards I had a thought. While I processed that thought they shouted a bit and left.

Once they were outside everyone relaxed. The customers who'd been held up all agreed they weren't old enough to be buying booze. I berated myself for not keeping hold of the fake ID. The next customer pointed out that he'd be back - He'd Left His £10 Note Behind In His Hurry To Get To The Nearest Alternative Seller Of Alcohol.

I grabbed the note and fled to my office to wait for his return. It took him about 10 Minutes To Realise He'd Left His Money Behind. That's about the length of time it woud take him to walk o Tesco and back.

I explained to him that he could have his money back when he surrendered the ID. He refused to hand it over and I refused to give him back his money. He slowly understood that I wouldn't be intimidated and denied that he had the ID any longer! I told him to go and get it then. He came back in with his mate and after a bit more talking the two of them realised I wouldn't hand over the money until they'd handed me the ID. And at that point the mate extracted the ID from his wallet and gave it to me. I gave them their money. They'll need it to buy their next piece of fake ID.

Let's hope that the next one isn't something purporting to be a document that most civil libertarians are currently strenuously objecting to having introduced into this country.