Three Poems About ASDA
By Jack Shamash
October 2022
The housewarming
To buy a housewarming present for a friend,
I went into the seasonal and garden section of Southgate ASDA.
I found an attractive female garden gnome,
Wearing a blue bikini and carrying a seashell.
She had a saucy smile
And – as garden gnomes go – looked quite sexy.
But I was concerned.
Would my friend think that I was having a joke,
Making an ironic comment on his poor taste,
Or his success with women?
I gave it some thought,
And went to the next aisle –
electrical and household goods –
Where I found a three-speed electric whisk.
Now he will have the lightest pancakes
And the fluffiest sponges
In the whole of N14!
ASDA terror attack
A notice on the door of ASDA tells you what to do
in the event of armed attack.
‘Run, Hide, Tell’ it announces.
When the gunman comes you should get away as quickly as possible,
Turn your phone to silent and hide,
And call 999 to alert the police.
But under no circumstances should you grab a stack of tablet computers,
And run off without paying.
The tinned meat aisles
The tinned meat aisles of ASDA
are the land that time forgot.
Skippers, sild, lump crab meat:
who eats these things?
Tinned cured chicken breasts or chopped ham?
Items that parents might have sent their sons,
To cushion the loneliness of boarding school.
‘My folks sent me lunch tongue, lamb chunks in gravy,
tinned peaches (semi-sweet) and condensed milk.'
Everything needed for midnight feasts in the dorm,
Curiously unappetising
But fervently desired.
Like cheaply-made Christmas presents,
Or the cold kiss from a loveless mother.
