I bought a chicken at the megalomart on Sunday.

The cashier asked me if I wanted the bird in a plastic bag, to which I replied, “Yes.”

I do that for all meat, and the cashiers are trained to ask (I’m nosey that way).

The poultry at this and many other megalomarts in Australia is prone to leaking, and while I use reusable bags, I don’t want chicken blood all over them. And I wash them like Chapman says.

The woman behind had brought her own cooler bag (commonly known here as an Esky, as in short for Eskimo, to which I usually say, they’re Inuit, and isn’t that a bit racist?), and when asked if she wanted her bird in a plastic bag, replied, “Oh no, I’ve got my Esky. It’s fine.”

A bloody cooler bag isn’t cool.