Long queues and unmanned tills figure at the top of Britons’ list of retail gripes, according to new research today. But there’s so much more to customer dissatisfaction than this. Anyone who’s been dragged out to their nearest High Street on a busy Saturday by their other half will know what it feels like to be an unwilling participant in what is sometimes said to be Britain’s most popular leisure activity - shopping.

Never mind the tedium of walking at snail’s pace through packed and overheated department stores. Or the difficulty of attracting shop assistants who seem to have perfected the 1,000-yard stare. Or the endless hanging around outside fitting rooms while your partner discovers that they’re not a size 12 after all and all the outfits picked have to go back and be replaced with bigger ones.

No, it’s just the fraught nature of it all. The long queue to get into the multi-storey car park and the extended delay when you want to get out thanks to the fact that there’s only one pay machine in operation which will invariably cost you extra in parking charges.

The way you are assailed with loud, pumping rock music in practically every shop, inflicted with surly teenaged Saturday staff who simultaneously know everything and nothing at all. And the long, long wait to pay while the person in front struggles to remember their PIN at the cash till. Not to mention the virtual bombardment of ‘closing down sale’ messages, charity muggers and middle-aged women with clipboards who want to stop you at every corner for their ‘quick little survey’.

There’s no escape even when you’ve finished shopping. Want a quiet drink or a bite to eat? Bad luck. You can try one of the identikit ex-bank premises that now offer 24/7 drinking venues, complete with the obligatory crowd of unreformed puffers loitering outside. Or you can take pot luck in a pseudo French-style pavement cafe with a curly sandwich and over-priced cappucino.

There’s simply no escape from the hordes. Even the retreat back home in the car will be to no avail, stuck as you will be in a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam all the way out of the town centre. Get back and sigh with relief only to listen to the plaintive cries of regret as your partner recounts the list of stores that we just didn’t have time to get around to and the dreaded words - ‘never mind, we can always pop back tomorrow’.

For, truly, on the seventh day man has no rest.