In a surprisingly upbeat mood, we drive towards Birkenhead. We sit in traffic putting the world to rights. It transpires that absolutely everything that makes my job shit has nothing to do with me and is the responsibility of every other employee at the place that if I named I'd have to kill you.

We arrive at Cheshire Oaks Outlet Village after about six months of trying to get there. My "Parking Space" luck continues as one appears as soon as we enter the car park. And what's more, it's about 2 yards from Starbucks. This day could not be going any better.

I am quite disappointed that the Starbucks is a normal Starbucks and not a "Factory Outlet". I was expecting to find already chewed Cinnamon Squares, squashed Lemon and Poppy Seed Muffins, pre-used Coffee and ex-display Cups but fortunately, everything is as it should be.

An hour later, we emerge from Starbucks and head towards the shops. I am not entirely sure what to expect from this place apart from being surrounded by lots of snot chewing, nauseating Scousers. I have already pre-warned my Canadian Girlfriend to be extra vigilant when it comes to looking after her bag.

The first shop we go into is the Calvin Klein one. I pick up a denim jacket. There seems to be a slight flaw with the jacket - it buttons up on the wrong side, like a ladies jacket and it seems to be sized like a men's jacket. So either it's had the buttons put on the wrong side or it's been cut at the wrong size. It costs £8 and for that price, I am willing to put up with people saying "You're wearing a women's coat!"

I spend an obscene amount of money in the adidas shop but since the whole point behind this trip was for me to spend an obscene amount of money in the adidas shop; I guess that is mission accomplished.

We have obviously come at the right time. The Merseyside time-warp, in which Shell Suits and Perms are still fashionable, has brought Easter to the Cadbury's Outlet. We stock up on past their sell by date Mini Eggs and dented boxes of Cream Eggs. We grab a bag of Mis-shapen Chocolates too.

The last thing I expect to find here is a small, lightweight "Runner's" rucksack but a quick and unexpected dodge into "North Face" and all of a sudden I'm the owner of a said rucksack for only £10. I run through the list of things that "I have been thinking of spending money on but am not sure if I should" and the only thing that is left on the list is a red Prestige "Deco" kettle and four slice toaster. And the only reason that that is still on the list is because the "Kitchen" shop had sold out of the 4 slice toasters.

My Canadian Girlfriend is also spending money, which is unusual. She is normally so thrifty that she sometimes refuses to buy a ticket on the Metrolink. She replaces all her make-up at "evlon" and is looking at luggage for her impending trip back to Canada. I decide that my Parents should buy her the luggage as her Birthday Present, which also makes sure that she buys the ones she wants and not the cheapest.

Mohammed comes to the mountain as I fetch the car from the other side of Village. We load all the bags and suitcases into the back of the car and buckle up about 3 hours after we expected to be heading out. We open the Mis-shapen Chocolates. I dip in and pull out a congealed mass of chocolate. I bite into an orangey, nutty, biscuity chocolate of unknown origin but that tastes kind of like the orange one of the Roses.

I go to collect a package!!!

I am awaiting two packages. One contains super secret things which are already too late for my Canadian Girlfriend’s Birthday and the other is a book which she has ordered from the USA which, since she has had problems with mail going missing, is coming to my house.

This is not the first package I have received this week either! The previous package, which I had mistaken for one of the packages I was expecting, contained my free gift for buying my Canadian Girlfriend a super secret subscription to a super secret magazine. I am half tempted to try and “get visibly longer legs” by using the tanning solution contained within the envelope but my fear of coming out like the tango man is too great.

Oh what fun it is to park up outside the post office and not know what to expect when the man hands you the envelope. I inspect the package and not wanting to give anything away to the watching postie, I retreat to the car to open the envelope. The excitement is intensified by the strong aroma of coffee permeating through the morning air.

I rip off the top of the envelope and locate the source of the strong coffee smell. It seems because I am a regular user of my Starbucks card and have been using it for x number of months and / or have spent more than £x on it and / or have managed not to have sex in their toilets for x days, I have been sent a gift of some coffee beans which will be ground to my liking by my local Starbucks.

What a surprise!!!

But this is simply a marketing ploy so that I will tell my friends about how great Starbucks are and what a good company they are and how they send such cool free gifts. They may even have sent it to me knowing that I would write about it in my weblog. Well as much as I like this promotion, I cannot be bought. I will not fall for such a cynical marketing ploy.

Hang on! Where are my parcels?

“Look I have to go!” I say trying not to explain why I want to go shopping on my own the week before My Canadian Girlfriend’s birthday.

“Can’t you just stay here today and go shopping another time? I’d really like it if you could just stay here this afternoon.” She replies, not getting the subtle hint.

“I kind of have to go this week. I can’t go next weekend.” I say, emboldening my voice for added emphasis. There is a short delay while the penny drops like a Plinko token on the Price is Right.

“Oh….. I see. Well do you remember the rules for going out on your own?”

“Yes of course I do,” I reply, bullet-pointing my speech for ease of reading.

• “I am not allowed to make eye contact with any other women.”
• “If I have to ask a female shop assistant for advice, I have to start with ‘I am shopping for a gift for my Girlfriend’.”
• “While I can stop at Starbucks and I will be allowed to consume a muffin and a coffee, I will not enjoy it”
• “I will text at least every hour with an ETA on how long I’ll be”
• “If all else fails I should fall into the foetal position and sound my rape alarm”

I go shopping for super secret things!!!

In particular, I am looking for one super secret thing. I have picked up that there are four main guidelines - listed in order of relevance - I have to work within:

• It is white
• It has a zip
• It is big
• It has pockets
• It doesn’t cost too much

Personally, I am not too concerned with the last one as I am already so far over the pre-agreed limit on spending that it’s not really worth bothering about.

I manage to see lots of examples of examples of the super secret thing I am looking for but so far nothing that has caught my eye. There is one with tassles which hang down and, I imagine, get in the way of everything. Plus who’d want a super secret thing that looked like an unkempt buffalo.

Oh yuk! This super secret thing is so unbelievably cheap and nasty and chav-y. There are gold studs everywhere. Ever seam has little metal gold pyramids on it and there are gold chains hanging off every corner. It looks cheap, nasty and tacky. I would expect to see this super secret thing being rested on top of the fag machine at the King George in Eccles while Tracy hitches up her boob tube and tries to find some change as Sharon drones on about how she can have any man she wants. There is no way I can buy this. Don’t get me wrong, she’d love it. She’d absolutely love it. It is the most perfect super secret thing I’ve seen today. But there’s no way I can be seen with her while she has it.

And then I go into Aldo; a Canadian shop for a Canadian Girlfriend. If ever there was a perfect match this is it. I find a super secret thing that matches all five criteria – it is even on sale.

I punch in my PIN without making eye contact with the woman at the counter and head towards the car. Super secret shopping is over for six months.