If you don’t shed blood, did you really purchase a Dyson?
If you don’t shed blood, did you really purchase a Dyson?

Reason behind ugly scenes at Aldi sale

THE sheer aggression mums show at sales while hunting down a Dyson doesn't make sense until you actually own one.

It's only after making the purchase and whizzing it around your home and pulling open the dust barrel to marvel at the clumps of dust and hair and crumbs that you decide it's completely reasonable to line up for five hours and bicycle kick a mum to get your hands on one of these machines.

Within hours, your use of the vacuum becomes obsessive. And all of a sudden it's one in the morning and you've cleaned every surface several times as well as the car and you find yourself feeling sad that there's literally nothing left for you to vacuum.

You also develop a smugness for no particular reason.

Messy scenes at a Dyson sale.
Messy scenes at a Dyson sale.

"Ooh, did you buy some kind of fancy sex toy?" a friend replied at the excited mention of a big purchase this week.

This was better than a fancy sex toy. And no sunglasses or hats had to be worn into the store to buy it.

After months of deliberation, my inner-housewife was finally allowed to run wild into a shop to purchase a Dyson.

It's widely known that Dyson sales are a war zone. Over the years, survivors have recalled stampeding mums and screaming matches. In severe cases, the confronting scenes have made the news, with rough and ready iPhone footage capturing customers tug-of-warring the vacuums.

By comparison, this week's experience was a total let-down. No aggressive mums were around. The nearest customer was on the other side of the store looking at fridges. For a split second, I considered running over and shoving her into a Westinghouse. After all, if no blood is shed, did you even really purchase a Dyson?