Coupons... Now I know, in these recession hit times, anyone who can cut their weekly grocery bill should be saluted.

And Indeed, we’d all be crazy if we didn’t take advantage of every opportunity to slash our family’s food budget.

But there are times when I just feel like screaming: “Look, put those cut-out-and-keep coupons back in your purse and allow me to pay the difference...”

Magnanimous? Certainly. Selfless? Unquestionably.

Big-hearted? Always. And selfish? Absolutely.

Because, God help me, if there’s one thing that can quicken the ageing process, it’s standing behind someone at a supermarket checkout as they fumble, pick and finger their way through first their handbag, then their purse, and finally that little pocket within said purse they use specifically for storing these vouchers, as they race to knock a pound or two off their bill.

Civilisations can rise and fall in the time it takes some people to get 10p off a toilet cleaner.

And whole galaxies can form and collapse in the inevitable interval between unfolding a coupon for a 25 per cent discount on a four-pack of kitchen towels and actually placing the purchased product in your bag.

Something close to this (but much, much worse) happened on Saturday as I stood behind a woman who seemed, perhaps uniquely in this world, to have given over the entire cubic capacity of her trolley to discount slips.

She had about 15 items, and the cashier – with practised precision and finesse – whipped through each of these in under half a minute. A true professional. But that sadly, was as good as it got...

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that the pile of discount tickets towered a good five or six inches off the checkout’s conveyor belt.

And some were as abstract as ‘50p Off Next Year’s Cheese Singles’ or ‘Buy One, Get One Posted. Terms and Conditions Apply’.

As the minutes ticked by, and the other shoppers behind me, (for want of something better to do): l Grew beards l Completed Open University degrees l Or, simply moved to another queue I became determined to stand my ground.

It took, I guess, almost 10 minutes for the actual financial transaction to take place (this was after the goods had been scanned and the shopper presented with her bill) and not once did she attempt to apologise.

Total savings, I figured, were close to £2.50, which is no small figure I grant you, but the total cost to me emotionally was £9.85 (taking into account the two glasses of white wine I needed afterwards just to calm down).

So please, if you have coupons, could you at least sort them before you get to the cashier. Or, should I be behind you, allow me to pay the difference.

Trust me, it would be worth it.