Specifically, in a London branch of Sainsbury’s:

Coffee in case in Sainsburys store in London

( saphling ) pic.twitter.com/rEEE1LpEpH

— London & UK Street News (@CrimeLdn) September 13, 2025

It does, I think, capture the absurdity of where we are.

For those blissfully unfamiliar with the phenomenon above and how it came to be, broader context can be found here. Along with some telling contortions from our progressive betters.

And from which, this:

See also, the Progressive Retail Experience series, a recurring feature of Fridays here, and whose entries currently number 666.

Update, via the comments:

Jen quotes this, from the post linked above,

She adds, drily,

Well, it’s quite the feat to construe brazen and habitual thieves who merrily degrade the lives of those around them – the ones sexually assaulting retail staff and brandishing machetes – as somehow being the victims of the drama, the ones deserving of our empathy and indulgence, the ones who shouldn’t be punished.

While blaming the law-abiding, on whom they prey.

And while pretending not to know that the kinds of people who thieve and loot repeatedly, dozens or hundreds of times, often while visibly exulting in a sense of power, an ability to menace others, are quite likely to behave in other vividly anti-social ways. And while somehow ignoring the damning statistics of her own chosen sources.

I mean, even by the standards of the Guardian and Observer, that’s some pretty solid perversity. One might, for instance, contrast Ms Gill’s article, or that of Mr Jones, with all available statistical data, with the accounts of the victims, and with actual footage of the crimes in question – I’ve shared 666 examples to date – and then behold the utterly jarring dissonance.

As I said in an earlier thread,

And Ms Gill’s Observer article is littered with quite glaring factual and logical errors – things that a professional journalist should know and which are easily found out. And yet she somehow doesn’t know, or pretends not to know, and makes no effort whatsoever to check. Because moral perversity is, among her peers, much more statusful.

Again, a psychology worthy of study.

Consider this an open thread. Pick a subject, any subject.

Theirs is a “non-hierarchical” relationship, so the whole cancer thing didn’t count when there’s third-party shagging to be had:

Readers may recall the numerous polyamory ‘cope’ videos we’ve seen here over the years, in which clearly neurotic and unhappy people try to convince themselves, and us, that they’re totally cool with their chosen lifestyle miseries. Often while on the verge on tears.

we’re reaching levels of polyamory cope that shouldn’t even be possible pic.twitter.com/Cc3fdxxhwn

— pagliacci the hated 🌝 (@Slatzism) August 8, 2023

“Imagine them there, embracing you.” Instead of that other slag.

every video I see from this polyamorous woman sounds like she’s on the verge of tears and trying to convince herself that everything’s okay pic.twitter.com/ksO9coMzk2

— pagliacci the hated 🌝 (@Slatzism) February 8, 2024

You know, I don’t think her expression quite matches her words.

And then there was the time the Guardian’s lifestyle section brought us assurances of the “really positive energy” of polyamory, despite an unfolding catalogue of unhappy complications, displays of selfishness and insecurity, and despite recurring use of the words jealousy, resentment and anger.

And we mustn’t forget the tale, via New York magazine, of the Brooklynite comedian and podcaster named Billy, his girlfriend Megan, and his girlfriend Megan’s other boyfriend Kyle. An exhaustingly self-consciousness three-way entanglement resulting in a series of grimly farcical situations that were framed, rather coyly, as “relationship difficulties.”

The above, I should add, was one of several attempts by New York magazine to portray unfaithfulness and cuckoldry, and the consequent anxieties, as the very zenith of a progressive lifestyle.

As when a betrayed husband, Michael Sonmore, boasted, unconvincingly, that he “finally became a feminist” thanks to his wife’s nocturnal sexual adventures with a chap named Paulo. A wife who was “embracing herself” and becoming empowered, we were told, while her children, aged six and three, wondered where their Mommy was.

Update:

Oh, and needless to say, further complications sometimes arise:

I’m more concerned with the dead teeth. pic.twitter.com/SlBT9hsbg4

— Liberacrat™️ (@Liberacrat) September 4, 2025

So, if the rota systems, pecking orders and endless crying don’t strike you as appealing or the foundation of a happy life, that can only be because you, a filthy heathen, aren’t sufficiently sophisticated.

Just a thought.

Imagine that, the first thing that came to that low iq mind was to whip out his phone and hit record, instead of trying to render aid. pic.twitter.com/eA3OlwG7LT

— Liberacrat™️ (@Liberacrat) September 1, 2025

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

From the pages of Business Insider, more progressive-woman-lifestyle news:

What those values might be will, perhaps, become clear, if only by implication.

That’s the article’s headline. The star of this drama is Ms Cindy Sheahan, a former real-estate agent. Judging by the tone and triumphant photograph, I’m guessing we’re supposed to regard Ms Sheahan as some kind of inspirational figure. No explanation is offered for Ms Sheahan divorcing her husband, taking half his stuff, and then putting half a planet between her family and herself. There are no mutterings of neglect or infidelity. No hardships of any kind.

The nearest we come to a justification is,

And, er, so,

Again, the whys and wherefores of this radical uprooting remain oddly nebulous. Beyond, that is, the intrigue of unfamiliar food. We are, however, informed,

So says our woman of high progressive principle – the woman who abandoned her husband and family, and her job, seemingly forever, despite promising to return:

Quite what Ms Sheahan’s employers made of this, or indeed her husband and four children, is, alas, not disclosed. Evidently they were deemed of no importance in this tale of progressive empowerment. And so, Ms Sheahan went searching for herself in Cambodia, and in Vietnam. And Laos. And Madagascar. And Turkey and Cyprus. And France and Spain and Portugal and Greece. Indeed, this quest for self – this attempt to find an alignment of values – spanned “nearly fifty countries.”

Before – presumably thwarted – trying Italy:

And as you can imagine, Ms Sheahan is so into authenticity.

And being so authentic, so attuned to higher matters, her days are now spent eating alone in restaurants:

Oh, and grocery shopping. Specifically,

Ah, the inexhaustible romance of buying tomatoes. It’s all about personal growth, you see:

For some reason, the abandoned husband and four distant children come to mind.

Ah.

So screw those guys. Madam has tomatoes to buy.

If the above sounds vaguely familiar, you may be thinking of this.

Via Dicentra.

Or, Please Don’t Bore Our Staff And Customers With Your Weird Compulsions.

In which Madam applauds herself for her own feats of self-preoccupation:

Woman refuses to be professional at work and it’s your fault for being uncomfortable, conservatives. You made her turn down this job. pic.twitter.com/qW4vBsfSkr

— Σ𝕏ulansic 🦎 (@TTExulansic) July 15, 2025

Madam apparently needs us to know that she is “part of the LGBT+ community,” as if we should not only care but be endlessly fascinated, and insists that she needs “to find a workplace that is LGBT+ community friendly.” Quite what this might mean, practically, is not altogether clear, though the implications that come to mind are somewhat limited in their appeal.

As there are only so many ways in which tales of one’s sex life can be shoehorned into workplace conversation, I’m assuming Madam expects those around her to continually acknowledge some boutique complications of her all-important “identity” – fabulist pronouns, an imaginary themness, or something similar. Something very much about her, rather the task at hand.

We’ve been here before, of course: