Checking out

The fabric of British life as we know it is under threat: the Asian corner-shop owner is in decline, ceaselessly buffeted by the supermarkets and increasingly abandoned by children attracted to higher professional callings than offering advice on lottery numbers and solving a sudden crisis on the domestic cat-food supply side.

The fabric of British life as we know it is under threat: the Asian corner-shop owner is in decline, ceaselessly buffeted by the supermarkets and increasingly abandoned by children attracted to higher professional callings than offering advice on lottery numbers and solving a sudden crisis on the domestic cat-food supply side.

We rejoice, naturally, that the deep respect for education instilled in the children of the corner-shop proprietor is bearing such satisfying fruit; but what about the consumer?

What are we to do without this towering figure, succour of our wants, symbol of stability in our flux-filled urban landscape, ready dispenser of the accumulated wisdoms of any number of cultures, acute observer of our frailties and strengths?

Is there to be no respite from the onrushing tyranny of the remorseless trolley, the soulless aisle and the cold, cold bleep of the checkout? Mr Blair: act now, or we shall never face convenient late night or glad confident early morning again.