Get me the number of a reputable lawyer. Now.

Today I went to the big-ass shopping outlet just outside of York.

Designer Outlet, meet Blog, Blog meet Designer Outlet.

Designer Outlet is home to every big brand you can imagine and then some, and because it's an outlet you can buy things in bulk for less than anywhere else.

Then you realise that the brands are too expensive and fuck off home fuming over the time you wasted.

Makes for a good day out.

After this ritual I dragged my sister back to York for some more shopping, namely at HMV - the only place in York that sells a decent amount of DVDs since Zavvi went bust.

Ahh... Let me tell you that HMV has never let me down, from there I have obtained many things... Superman shirts, countless albums and DVDs, posters, games... the works.

So why oh why when I go to buy a cert-15 movie does some cocky shit ask me for ID?

Why?!

"Well," He said. "I can't sell you this without some I.D."

I honestly felt the tiny strings of calm popping in my head. Do I look fourteen?

It takes quite a bit for me to lose it completely, but this guy really found the target.

I listed all the various bits of I.D. I had on my person, "School library card?" [Note: It has never been used.] "Bank card?", "National Insurance Number?".

And he was just all: "They might not be yours."

I saw red. And at this point I'm going to have to highlight the difference between what I said and what I thought.

Now look here you surly bastard...

"But... all the details here match. All of these are mine." I whined. Probably not the best idea when trying to prove my age.

"You could have stolen it."

"..."

FUCK YOU, MAN.

"Well, whatever. What do I need to prove my age then?"

"Photo I.D. A passport or a driving license."

DO I LOOK LIKE THE KIND OF PERSON WHO CARRIES A PASSPORT AROUND WITH ME? WHAT IS THIS? EAST FUCKING BERLIN?!

"Right, okay, thank you."

---Charged home---

"WHERE'S MY PASSPORT?!"

My dad was mildly alarmed. "Uhh... what?"

"I said, where is my passport? And my driver's license, and my birth certificate, and that certificate I won in that K'Nex competition." (It may not have looked like that.)

Typical question: "Why?"

"Because, Father, I want to march back to HMV and shove it all up the arse of the guy who didn't let my buy my fucking DVDs."

So me and my dad searched the entire house for my goddamn passport which I must say my mum has hidden VERY well because now the only conclusion I can come to is that she has a nagging fear that I am going to flee the country soon because of all my talk of Seattle and living with my homies in a ghetto in South Chicago and let us not forget Finland which I love very very much.

We could not find that damn passport anywhere.

Next time I go to HMV I will be taking my passport, my birth certificate, a bus pass, ten years of medical record, my dentist and that guy's death certificate.

That'll fucking teach them.