Wednesday, 27 February 2008

So much cheek it's like a badly parked Volkswagen

Today, I had an appointment in Ipswich, and my car needed petrol. So I drove in, with the little orange low-fuel-warning light coming on under acceleration or up hills (if you can't work out why these two should both happen, then please review basic physics), and decided to fill up on the way back out because I was running close to time.

On the way back out, I noticed in passing that petrol prices, for unleaded, were at about 121.9 to 123.9. Which wasn't bad, given recent fluctuations.

But I was intending to drop into the servo at Karalee, because I needed the pharmacy in the shopping centre and because I had a discount voucher in my pocket.

Imagine, then, my shock when I got there to find a price of 138.9 staring at me from the sign and from the pumps. If the traffic wasn't so bad and I wasn't running late, it would have been cheaper for me to drive back to Ipswich, fill up, and then return. I did not fill my tank.

This is such a baffling degree of you have got to be fucking kidding me that I find myself almost lost for words.

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