Equal Opportunities at ALDI

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So I join the queue of bleary-eyed 40something underachievers in their outdated and ill-fitting shell suits and the all year round-clad in heavy wool, piss-smelling and bearded 60something women for my cheap wine and ALDI's finest mint chocolate and notice that 7 out of the 11 workers in my line of vision are fucking gingers. Two of the women are polite and fairly attractive, the rest are the stereotypical, freckled, maladroit inbred-looking monsters you'd use as a fucking draught excluder with the concomitant shock of brittle orange hair and the aesthetics of Beaker from the Muppets. There is a creeping cynicism that employers are hiring these cunt-sticks as they are now seemingly an ineradicable minority. All the blokes on the tills who aren't ginger are chocolatiers and I refuse to join their queue on principle, I'm not having my Dauphinoise Potatoes and Toro Loco handled by a fucking sweaty ring-lord. Instead, I am forced to mill around buying tiger bread rolls or glass-infused arse-paper with the soap-intolerant unemployed until an employee with 46 chromosomes is rung to take over a till. I'm all for human rights, but this is a fucking outrage. A good looking bastard like me shouldn't have to tolerate this balloon-knot fetishism these Teutonic fucking grocer cunts are forcing on the proles. Shame on you Merkel.