Women searching through their bags at the front of a queue

handbag1

The female handbag is something of a marvel to behold insomuch as the amount of shit it can seemingly contain. I’m actually quite jealous of the storage space afforded to the fairer sex when all I’ve got to play with is a couple of pockets – three or four if it’s cold and I’ve got a jacket. But here’s the thing ladies: with great power comes great responsibility. And if you’re going to carry absolutely everything in that faux leather sac, then at least have the common decency to retrieve what you need well advance of the time you’ll be needing it.

You know it takes a while to find things in there; it happens time and time again. So don’t spend your precious moments waiting in the queue nattering or – even more mystifyingly – doing fuck all, and then spend half a minute faffing around trying to dig out your travel card, or cashpoint card, or keys, or pen, or whatever you fucking knew you needed when you joined the queue in the first place!

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