Doomed Souls from Dante's Inferno
Dante had his inferno, Dickens Chancery, and us, well we have Ikea. I bought a trolley’s worth of candles, napkins, picture frames and other such stuff I didn’t need. I dutifully queued at the checkout. All the stuff shuffled along the conveyor belt, baleful faces all around. Everyone guiltily glancing at each other, all would have been less shamefaced coming out of a sex shop, such is the shame of allowing yourself to be conned into coming into this hell hole.

When the last of my (it’s only two quid how could I resist it) purchases had been shoved through, the assistant on till 49 told me that I couldn’t buy one of the items as it didn’t have a bar code. Going and getting another one (witches at Salem would have received better treatment than I would by the rest of the queue had I done so) was out so I paid up and wondered what to do as I really wanted this white box to put all the crap in I’d just bought. So I asked No 49 if I could leave my trolley anywhere and go and get said box. “No”. Is there nowhere I can store my stuff “No”. Can I go back in then with my trolley “yes”. So in I go, get the box, and queue up in a baskets only line, as all the others stretch back to Newcastle.

Half way to the till the assistant (No 5) does a Trisha ‘talk the hand’ routine with me. “No trolleys” “I only have one item” “No trolleys, I ain’t serving you” “I only have one item, I’m not moving”. I get to the front of the queue “No trolleys, I ain’t serving you” I explain, again, I only have one item, I had to go back into the store, No 49 said it was ok, look here is my receipt etc. “SECURITY” she yells. “What, why are you doing that?” “YOU HAVE TO BE SEARCHED, YOU’VE BEEN IN THE STORE WITH YOUR TROLLEY, I AINT SERVING YOU”.

Anyway, manager called, very sorry, could have found item in book they have at till, 49 could have done that, you can have trolley in this (No 5’s) aisle, she should have served you. Thanks for using Ikea bye bye. And would they care if I never went back. Would they fuck. And will I go back, no doubt. And so will we all. I guess, unlike the inferno, we can keep on getting burnt.


  • I wish I could promise you that I’d never go to IKEA again but as the cats have well and truly fucked up the current (IKEA) sofas no doubt we’ll be back there sooner rather than later.

  • Visiting and compulsively re-visiting Ikea is a bit like childbirth. You somehow forget the pain you go through only to repeat it again. I always seem go into a catatonic trance in Ikea. I then manage to get lost, briefly wonder why I’m going against the arrows on the floor instead of following them ( I never was one for being told what to do), eventually find my way down to the basement to buy candles that I don’t want and other assorted un-handy garden frippery and then get till rage/car park rage/road rage. I guess I’ll bump into you all there sometime before Christmas.

  • I’ve been there and done that and I’ve made the standard IKEA mistakes (9am, Sunday, Bank Holiday – Oh, should we pop up to IKEA then for a quick visit). I’ve cursed and raged and hated. I’ve sworn never to return and I’ve almost kept my promise.
    Then I realised that if you go when no-one else is there, which is most weekdays mid morning, it is (almost) a joy. The staff (what staff) aren’t stressed, there are no queues, though the meatballs are no less disgusting.
    I haven’t been for ages now, but maybe in the middle of next week …

  • Anyawy, only IKEA could have furntire called

  • Well one of the cats, the big fat one, has a blocked urethra that has so far racked up £497 of vet bills in less than 24 hours (is this some kind of record?) so it doesn’t look like we’ll be buying anything except candles from IKEA for a while. Today the vet said “We could always remove his penis” and I said “That’s a bit harsh – it’s not his fault he’s ill.” But apparently it’s the long term fix for cats who can’t pee. Expect to see it in the HNS soon for old men with prostate problems (it works by basically enlarging the hole the piss comes out of).

  • I don’t know what’s worse – the thought of eating Ikea METBAL in their KAFE or the image of cat with no winkle spraying everytime it goes for a wee over your lovely FEKBERG Ikea sofa’s. My friend’s granny is from Newcastle an insists on calling it eye-eeka which always makes us laugh.

  • Are you sure the vet said it was the cat’s penis she was getting rid of. I’d watch that Yolly, since she’s been back she’s been kind of….restless.

  • Anyway, then I noticed an advert for a company that claims ‘We go to IKEA so you don’t have to’ http://www.flatpackbrighton.co.uk/
    Which seems like a reasonable idea, so long as they promise to get lost in the layout, eat crap meatballs and rant in the checkout queue for me.

  • But it’s not fair if they’re allowed to go without kids, or if they can go with a van that can accomodate the 6ft plus length of shelving you’ve bought, never put up and have left to stand at an awkward angle in the downstairs loo, thus prohibiting you closing the door for the next two years, and it’s not fair if they don’t have to go at the weekend, and it’s not fair if they already know what they’re getting and can go straight to the aisle and don’t have to go the marketplace and buy candles and napkins, and it’s not fair if they’re blokes and can lift the flat pack comes in two parts bastard snoorg cabinet that fits under your bed in order for you to stub your toe on it three times a day for the next six months until you say DIVORCE if you don’t put it together. So it’s just not fair.

  • And more, you may like to ponder that if we didn’t have IKEA we’s still be shopping at MFI

  • First of all can I thank you all for saving me having to blog, especially as the b,c and full stop are now completely dead.

    My Dad told me today that when he last went to Ikea he got a bit lost in the flat pack area, and when he came back to where he’d left his trolley it had gone. He found an assistant who had not yet lost the power of speech, who told him that there was an area where abandoned trolleys were kept. When he got there he said that it was a warehouse nearly the size of Ikea FULL of trolleys that had been abandoned, as thousands of poor souls had lost the will to go on. I wonder whether there is a room somewhere in Ikea where they store the customers who just….couldn’t…..make…..it……….any……..further.

  • So I guess we’re not all meeting up there next week then? Just think – if we go to the Brent Cross one – we could start at Ikea, go nextdoor to ToysRus with ALL the kids by which time we would be past caring or would have lost them in the BALPIT area of IKEA anyway(why are they always very dangerously situated near the main entrance?) and then finish off at PetsRus where we could buy similarly crap things for Paul and Yol’s cats. It has given me an idea for a documentary in the same vein as Supersize Me. I could subject myself to a month of continual ikea – visiting, buying, constructing and taking back as there aren’t enough holes or screws etc. Do you think it would affect my health? I think it obviously has already……

  • Hey, let’s flashmob IKEA.

  • Yeah! With Banksy..

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