Dan shops till he drops

As 24-hour shopping becomes the norm, is it possible to live your life in one shop? DANIEL WAINWRIGHT reports on Day Two of his quest to find out.

The challenge was clear – to live in Asda for 48 hours with nothing more than the items on the shelves.

A day into my quest and the novelty had worn off. This was clearly going to be an endurance test. Yesterday I revealed how I aimed to find out how possible it was to live my entire life under a single roof by living inside Asda, in Jack Hayward Way, for 48 hours.

With soaring council tax bills, rising fuel prices and costly mortgages, the idea of living inside a shop that sells everything appeals.

Because if you can buy all you need under one roof, do you really even need your own roof any more?

As part of the experiment, I was forbidden to have any items of my own on my person.

Everything from the food I ate to the clothes on my back had to come from that store. If I could not find it, then I would have to do without.

I set up my Asda tent at the front of the store, entertained guests and found I could not even offer them an alcoholic drink because of licensing laws.

And the longest night of my life was not yet over...

TUESDAY

4am

I am just drifting back off after the "shaking" incident when my tent unzips. I sit up to be confronted by two young men staring at me.

They ask me what I'm doing and then ask if they can get in with me. I politely decline. They are munching on a box of Cornish pasties they have not yet bought, but they assure me they will pay for as they leave.

It turns out their names are Sean and Ryan and they have been out to the Queen's Arms pub for the evening. The pair stay and talk at me for what seems like half an hour.

As they get up to leave I notice someone has emptied a bag of rabbit food at my door. But 23-year-old Raj Dhanoa, a member of the night shift, swiftly arrives with a dustpan and brush although I offered to deal with it myself. I couldn't have asked for better in a hotel. The next morning I am informed that Sean and Ryan stayed for a long time wondering whether I would come out of the tent. I am sorry to have disappointed them but I was going nowhere.

6.15am

I have probably managed about four hours sleep in one hour bursts. I can hear a loud whirring and it turns out to be a lady on one of those cleaning vehicles.

I decide to make a dash for the staff shower, stopping off to buy a towel for £1.57, while the coast is clear. Workers are still busily preparing the shelves and there are only a handful of customers.

7am

I realise that I will need to do some washing up and laundry so I buy some washing up liquid for 68p along with two rolls of kitchen towel £1.08.

As with the fridge I could get a Servis washing machine for £199 delivered but I won't be here for it to arrive. I buy some travel wash for 76p and a washing up bowl for £1.77.

9am

Some exercise is in order. I have been bunched up in my tent all night so need to stretch a bit. I already have a mat thanks to using it to support the tent. A pilates ball kit will cost me £11.47 but I'll need a change of clothes. I buy some bargain trainers for £5 and a polo shirt for £2.50.

10am

I am starting to look a little rough around the edges despite my shower and decide to tidy myself up with a shave. The customer toilets do not have plugs in the sinks and the water is a bit fast out of the taps. I therefore opt for filling my bowl with water and pick up a bag of disposable razors for 27p and shaving foam for 36p.

Being a bit bleary eyed from lack of sleep I am too stupid to think about getting a mirror before my face is covered in foam so I just decide to go ahead anyway.

And I think I'm doing it brilliantly until I go to pour away my water in the loos and see in the mirror that I've cut my face to ribbons.

11am

If I am to live my life under a single roof then pretty soon I'm going to run out of money. Perhaps a bit of work experience is in order.

With permission from manager Simon O'Hara I spend a little time in the bakery taking bread out of the oven. Unfortunately I cannot even contemplate applying for this job. Baked goods have always been my weakness. I spy a pair of freshly baked pain au raisin for sale and make my greedy little way back to my tent.

12 noon

Remembering my manners I realise I should probably post my thank-you card to the staff today so they will get it tomorrow. I buy them a card for 97p and a book of first class stamps for £3.84.

1pm

My grandmother comes to visit. She must feel so proud. She insists on buying me a scone and a cup of tea in the cafe and as she leaves hands me a bag of pick and mix sweets as she has done regularly since I was about six.

Unfortunately I have to stash them in the back office with my things. I can't eat them here, they are not from Asda. I feel like my 79-year-old gran has smuggled me in some dangerous and tempting contraband.

4pm

I consider buying a personal CD player at £5.96. There's a huge range of cheap CDs starting at less than £7. But the problem is it's nearly all stuff that's currently in the charts. I have slightly older music tastes and want a bit of Pulp, Blur or Oasis. I can't find Jarvis Cocker's solo album or Lady Bridge by Richard Hawley anywhere.

Buying a cheap chart album along with your fruit and veg is all well and good but music should not have a sell-by date.

7pm

Dinner time and I've opted for three barbeque chicken legs from the hot chicken counter. They cost me £1. I could have had an entire rotisserie chicken for £3.68.

10pm

Deprived of sleep last night I have decided I need drastic measures to ensure a decent amount of kip tonight.

A bag of cotton wool balls costs 46p. I stuff as many in my ears as I possibly can.

I also strategically position my advertising boards in front of my tent. I consider a padlock for the zip but it won't stop people shaking the tent.

WEDNESDAY

6am

Amazingly I only woke up a few times in the night. As I make my way to the shower the staff greet me by name, it appears I have become something of a fixture in the store.

7am

I pack up my tent and do a final tally. I have spent £624.73 including £15.35 on food and £7.68 on toiletries. The vast majority has been on household goods and appliances as opposed to food and it shows just how far the humble supermarket has come. Asda Wolverhampton's profit improvement manager Steve Brant said the store employs 600 people and serves up to 13,000 customers a day.

He tells me the staff have enjoyed having me to stay: "It's been a bit of a novelty but I must stress this was definitely a one-off."

8.30am

A crowd of staff has gathered to bid me farewell. I cannot fault a single one of them for their kindness and sense of humour. Fred the ring road tramp lived a long life on a central reservation in Wolverhampton until he died aged 86 last October. True, he paid no taxes but he also did not ask for charity. That people chose to give him things was no reflection on the iconic tramp. In my two days I have become nothing like Fred, apart from the tent.

But this has made me think. My council tax bill is currently £95 a month and is set to rise.

My TV licence fee will go up, my car tax will cost more and my electricity and gas bills have increased as the companies blame the price of fuel while boasting record profits. I would never advocate refusing to pay the things which we are all duty bound to pay if we are going to receive public sector services.

Likewise I do not think it's right to just set up a camp on someone else's property without permission and expect them to clean up your mess.

However, imagine if we could all live under the same roof with one postal address where the supermarket giant that feeds off our wages took the strain of the public purse.

I dread to think about it. It sounds like I'm proposing the idea of the Megacity of Asda or the Metropolitan Borough of Tesco, each competing for residents because residents equals customers.

If so much of our money goes out of our accounts the moment we are paid on things that until recently were a lot cheaper, the idea might not be so detached from reality.