How hard is it to get a sandwich?

I know it's often hilariously touted as a "typically British pass time, a-ha, a-ha" but I fucking hate queuing. I also hate being hungry. Ergo, being hungry and in a queue makes me a little bit the wrong side of pissed off.

As I work in London's glorious den of drug-hazed sexual iniquity that is Soho, I'm surrounded by eateries from every corner of the globe. However, I tend to bring my own lunch in - please see my opening sentence. But today this wasn't possible so I had to venture out into the detritus-filled suit swamp that surrounds my office.

I am a simple man of simple means. A nice sandwich was all I required. Plus, I was hoping to find something that didn't require me to sell a kidney to afford.

Once I'd waded through the sea of flamboyant homosexuals and wannabe socialites to my destination, I saw the queue and though "oh deary me, that seems awfully long", or words to that effect, so continued my trek.

This happened 6 more times.

6 fucking times.

It's hot outside, I'm sweating, and now I'm eating a disgusting flaccid salad from a chain store super pharmacy I shall call "Shoes" to avoid any aggro. I have spent half of my lunch hour avoiding the over-sized handbags and oh-so-Bohemian flowing garments of a million wankers and am now in a terrible mood.

Listening to Type O Negative's "Dead Again" was a terrible decision too.

I know this isn't a very metal post but fuck it, you've read it now.