Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Stimulus: Landlord listening to the gospel of Bobby-Lee loudly, while prepping to go clubbing.
Response: Watching True Blood, cos God, oh yes, He does, yes, sir, yes ma'am, he surely does, because God loves, L O V E loves, oh yes, loves fangs.

Stimulus: Brother taking it upon himself to move his stuff and my stuff out of our parents' house.
Response: Waiting for the burst of efficiency to get wedged between my mother blocking his meddling and his wife blocking any of the stuff going into their flat.

Stimulus: The sneer and unintelligible comment from the guy behind me in the queue at Tesco's presumably because my basket had more than 50% Tesco Value products in it. He'd already made a loud comment to his girlfriend that he didn't have clubcard because he didn't usually shop in Tesco's (I suspect the relationship won't last).
Stimulus: The self-scan thing in Tesco's hanging whenever I pushed the "own bags" button but barking impossible and conflicting instructions at me (the staff in Briquesville having the butler-like ability to vanish into the wallpaper even when there isn't any).
Stimulus: The self-scan thing in Tesco's refusing most of the notes in my wallet.
Stimulus: The called out comments at Tesco's because I had to pack after paying because on the whole broken machine thing.
Stimulus: Some guy swinging his empty trolley into the streams entering and leaving Tesco's without looking hitting one woman and causing rapid adjustments by many heavily laden people.
Response: One part of one of those streams slapping it back in much the same way I hit cars that drive through red lights (only occasionally and in situations where there are other possible culprits and where easy to do so, though the best was on Oxwarren High Street, where the thud was loud enough to cause the mystified driver to stop a car length before he had to [the exit being solid, so yes, he did jump the lights when he had nowhere to go], only to take a broadside of three lanes of traffic all trying to be the first round him; I may have carried on walking, albeit a bit briskly). From the abruptly curtailed cry I think the handle caught his, er, handle.

Sometimes life is not really as good as it might be. And the moral of this story is never assume people leaving Tesco's are going to be happy and in a good enough mood to be pleasant. Or that proportional responses might be working to a different score.
---
[The following was appended to the end of the draft unfinished. Draw your own conclusions, and full stops.]
I've just had a pointed text message about whether I want my three bottles of wine brought up. I suspect these were the ballast from the Cavalier (otherwise known as the remains of GA's parties, so the type of event where one buys wine, and then takes it home again because it's not really a party if no