I have always fancied myself as a carpenter and having seen Lidl’s offer of an electric table saw with laser controls I woke early to join the queue outside their premises at 6.30 a.m. A queue was a very broad way of describing the phalanx of humanity which grew tighter and tighter and broadened by the minute.

When the doors opened at 7 a.m. there were some 200 mortals, 10 abreast, with one aim in life which happened to coincide with mine. The minute the racing gate lifted, they were off; I was shoved to a side like a bit of flotsam and eventually got near the counter which of course had been denuded of anything resembling a table saw.

Then the fun started: Someone yelled “they have opened a side door” (in the vernacular), but this was behind the mob and to the right, behind serried ranks of food and vegetables. Of course those who were at the front of the queue waiting impatiently for some restocking, now found themselves at the back of a running horde of demented beings; the Pamplona bull run would be a doddle compared to this. When they got to the door, packed like sardines, and with imploring, fluttering hands a woman (well the person was wearing a skirt) launched herself over the top of the front ranks screaming “give it to me” – I assume she meant the table saw and blow me if she wasn’t handed one and lived.

My carpentry will have to wait, but perhaps Lidl should consider the simple expedient of issuing tickets to the front of the queue for the prime objects on offer, which can then be collected in an orderly fashion.

I would also commend to the Malta Rugby Federation that a scout sent to witness the ability of some of the shoppers might well result in some star finds for our national team.