Argos

Sometimes, whether you like it or not, Argos just has something you need. And then, unfortunately, you have to go and get it. From Argos. Which is a bit of a bummer.
I’ve been to Argos in the Arndale Centre a few times, whether it’s to get a shower curtain, a cheap electric drill, or some drill bits because the aforementioned cheap electric drill didn’t actually come with any of its own.
You can reserve your items in advance which is really handy because there’s nothing worse than finding the thing you want in the shiny book of dreams and it not actually being in stock.
Aside from this, expect Argos to be like Argos. Kind of soul-​destroying, kind of useful at the same time.
Watch your head on the way out at closing time. The close their grill a couple of foot and hurts real bad when you smash your head on it, trust me. Health and safety anyone?

When I was little, I would go through the Argos catalogue and draw rings around everything I wanted. Barbies, cutlery with bubbly-​plastic handles, ‘beauty’ sets with twelvety thousand eyeshadow shades. The lot. Of course, this might seem like the behaviour of a spoilt brat, but I never actually *got* the Argos items, nor did I expect them. It was just fun to flick through the catalogue and dream about how great everything would be if I had a room full of Argossery.
Of course, now that I am a grown up, I realise that actually, £27 for 36 eyeshadows and a gamut of other ‘colour cosmetics’ is rubbish value, and I’m better off buying proper makeup from proper brands. I also now know that bubbly-​plastic cutlery isn’t exactly the height of making-​it-​on-​my-​own chic. I do still have a soft spot for ol’ Barbie, despite now knowing that she is a terrible influence on young girls, and is probably one of the top ten things-​that-​cause-​bulimia. So, I no longer feel the need for these items, but I do still love Argos.
Why? WHY? Well, because it has *everything* you will ever need for your home! An iron for less than £4! A big jug for sangria! Spare plates! Yes, it’s all a bit low-​end, but who cares? You’re not buying your wedding china, you’re buying a few plates that’ll probably get broken in your student househare!
Even I have to admit, though, that Argos is depressing. Here are some things I find depressing about Argos:
— the pallor of the sales assistants. They are paler than me, and that says something as I am almost see-​through.
— there aren’t enough chairs in the waiting area. I like sitting down.
— some people have their wedding list at Argos. Seriously. Wedding list. For their real actual wedding. Jeeeeez Louise.
— the little ‘stock-​check’ gewgaw next to every laminated catalogue is rarely fully functional.
— a quick glance around at the dead eyes of the other Argos shoppers might make you ask yourself «what am I doing here, on a Saturday?» and then that might cause you to do some self examination whilst waiting for your number to come up on the screen so you can collect your bread bin. This may in turn lead to you collapsing in on yourself in some sort of existentialist crisis, which Argos staff are ill-​equipped to treat.
Having said all that, I don’t go to Argos for an exciting shopping experience. I go to Argos when I need a new cat litter tray or I have broken the kitchen scales AGAIN by clogging them up with flour AGAIN. Argos always delivers, and this one is one of the best-​stocked Argosses ever. So suck it up, grow a pair, and prepare to be a little uncomfortable (and existentially angsty) for a bit while you get what you need and scarper.

The store with the hallowed ‘laminated book of dreams’ — Bill Bailey 2001, Argos is a study in nose pressed up against the glass style collective depression, just look around you the next time you’re there.
Robbing you of the simple pleasure of retail therapy Argos cuts out the effort, the middle man and the fun and has no place on the British high street as that is the very thing it is attempting to destroy.
The enemy from within is the most deadly of all!