The Hell of Tescoe's

It being a Saturday, needs must, for I to brave the hell of Tesco’s... fighting me way through the hungry hordes, my ears are constantly being bombarded by eldritch shrieks of
“Waa..yne. come ‘ere you little bleeder. WHAT did I tell yer about wandering orff?”

Usually the shrieks erupt right behind me, and it takes all my considerable nerve not to shriek myself.
“Taa.nya, git along and No you can’t have any (ok the entire shelf of sweets) WHAT did I say, do yer want a hiding?”
Any sensible child will answer in the negative.

I look round expecting to see some old bat of 101, but no its some young thing of 20 or nearly 20.
Chewing some substance that will undoutably rot her teeth , before she makes it to 22, promises of violence can be heard all the way to the check out

Whats the matter wiith the English, why do they have to yell at their young, as though they are all stone deaf? At this rate the little kiddies will be 10 year old deaf mutes.
Perhaps thats the whole idea.