MELON news, and intelligence - in the loosest sense of the word - reaches us from a Tesco store in Plymouth about a kerfuffle involving the controversial fruit.

 

Kate Lancaster, a woman, bought a melon in the normal course of things and bravely took it to the self-service checkout. I say "bravely" as that sort of business terrifies me.

Machines dislike me cordially, and these self-service johnnies never give me a minute's peace from their stern alerts: "Unauthorised Hibs supporter in the packing area!"

Once, two metal arms shot out and lifted me upside down, in which position I was left dangling until a supervisor arrived. Or was that in a dream? Doesn't matter, it was a disgrace at any rate.

Kate likewise was stopped and informed mechanically that her melon was "age restricted". This alert referred not to the age of the melon but that of prospective purchasers.

The inference was that the melon was an alcoholic fruit, with the risk that anyone consuming it might start singing maudlin ballads or trying to pick fights with the constabulary and other whey-faced innocents.

Perplexed, Kate took her pulpy-fleshed plant of the gourd family to a supervisor, who was lounging authoritatively nearby. Says Kate, now suffering from post-tillmatic stress syndrome: "She didn't smile or say hello, but just reached over to scan her card. I made a joke about the melon being security tagged and she actively blanked me."

Blanked! How often have I been there! The bon mot blootered into touch by the bovine stare and the appearance of saliva at the corner of my audience's downturned lips.

At the customer harassment desk, Kate was told her melon was restricted because it could ferment into alcohol. She tottered out in disbelief then hastened to the only haven of sanity afforded citizens today: Facebook.

A furore ensued, with outbreaks of rioting in several rural areas, forcing Tesco to issue an apology, but explaining that "[our] customer service colleague's comment about natural fermentation was meant as a joke".

The moral of this tale is that humour in supermarkets is a grim business and should only be practised in the presence of an interpreter.

I don't know Kate or the customer service "colleague", but perhaps the problem lay in their delivery. Usually, I highlight my jokes by explicitly exclaiming "ha-ha!" and setting my bow tie to "revolve".

Even then, I'm greeted with hostility and have been arrested twice. As for melons, everyone buys them but never eats them because the seeds are a hassle to remove.

So, next time you're in your supermarket's fruit section, proclaim: "A fie upon your gourds!" But not out loud though.