City Supermarket, Hull

The pretty cashier sits scanning groceries - her fake blond hair hanging smoothly on each cheek, a ring above one eyebrow. The other eye has a ring of black below.

"You've got a good shiner there, love" says the middle aged woman stuffing groceries into her bag.

The girl smiles, says nothing, looks down once again at the groceries. The woman shrugs and continues packing.

At another till an Arabic young man watches concernedly as the cashier scans his items. Almost a trolley full of cakes, tins of fizzy pop, bags of chicken legs.

She looks up, says something.

He stares back, silent, afraid to speak. His knowledge of English limited to recognising goods on shelves.

She accepts his offered money without expression and drops the change into his hand without touching his skin.

At another aisle, a shelf packer demonstrates putting deodorant under his clothed arm to another young man from who-knows-where.

The security guard paces up and down, looking uncomfortable. No macho guy, slightly overweight, soft face - someone who would be happier in a cardigan talking about cricket than here keeping the peace in the crowded supermarket with the noise of the traffic roaring by on the street outside.

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