Photo Booth Morrisons
So, you’ve just wandered into a Morrisons—the supermarket where the aisles smell faintly of floor wax, freshly baked bread, and regret. And there it is, glowing like a neon co...
So, you’ve just wandered into a Morrisons—the supermarket where the aisles smell faintly of floor wax, freshly baked bread, and regret. And there it is, glowing like a neon confession booth: the Photo Booth. Not for your passport, not for your wedding invite—oh no. This is for pure, unadulterated chaos. Let me tell you, Morrisons has quietly become the most underrated theater in Britain, and the photo booth is its starring clown.
First, let’s get the facts straight. Morrisons didn’t just slap a camera in a corner and call it a day. They partnered with Photo-Me International—the same company that puts those tiny, soul-sucking booths in train stations—but they added fun. Their kiosks let you print from your phone, edit with filters that make you look like an oil painting, and even create photo strips that scream “I’m a tourist in my own life.” It’s genuinely shocking how many people ignore this. They walk past it, clutching a rotisserie chicken and a bag of frozen peas, as if the booth is a portal to a dimension of awkward smiles.
Here’s the surprising bit: Morrisons photo booths are a secret weapon for last-minute family feud resolution. Yes, you read that right. I once saw a grown man storm out of the frozen foods aisle, red-faced over a dispute about Yorkshire puddings, and his wife dragged him into the booth. They emerged ten minutes later with a strip of four photos—each one showing them pulling increasingly ridiculous faces. They were laughing. The booth is cheaper than couples therapy and requires no appointment. It’s like a mood-altering drug, but with a shutter sound.
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And the prices? Let’s talk about them, because they are a delightful ride of “really?” A single print can set you back around £6, which is the same price as a whole bag of Morrisons’ own-brand cheese puffs. But wait—if you buy the 10-print package, it drops to about 50p per photo. That’s the kind of math that makes you feel like a financial genius while you’re simultaneously making a duck face. It’s the only time in life where “buying in bulk” applies to your own face.
Now, the technology is both impressive and terrifying. The booth uses facial recognition to adjust lighting and center your face. But here’s the kicker: it also has a “beauty mode” that smooths your skin so aggressively you’ll look like a wax sculpture of yourself. I accidentally left it on once, and my dad asked if I’d been airbrushed for a cereal box. The machine doesn’t lie—it just mercilessly flatters. You walk out looking like a GQ model who’s just had a nap, but you’ve still got a crumb of a Morrisons own-brand biscuit on your chin.
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Let’s not forget the social experiment that is the booth’s location. They’re usually stuck near the entrance, right between the “buy one get one free” on baked beans and the world’s saddest flower display. This means you’re immediately surrounded by shoppers who are judging you. I took a group photo with my mates in one, and a pensioner stopped to watch, clutching her trolley, and whispered, “You’re making a memory, luv.” She wasn’t wrong. We printed the strip, and it’s now stuck to my fridge next to a magnet shaped like a carrot. It’s art.
But the best part? You can upload your photos to the Morrisons app and win a “Photo of the Week” competition. Yes, you heard me—Morrisons runs a photo contest. The winner gets a £25 voucher. I’m not saying I’ve entered, but I’m also not saying I haven’t spent an hour perfecting a photo of my cat wearing a Morrisons own-brand “Savvy Savers” hat. The bar is low, people. The bar is on the floor, and that’s exactly where we belong.
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And then there’s the surprising fact that will make you the life of any dinner party: Morrisons photo booths have a green screen option. You can pose as if you’re on a tropical beach, or riding a unicorn, or standing on the moon. The green screen is actually just a grey curtain, but the software is so aggressive that a single hair out of place will turn you into a floating head. I tried it once, and my arm vanished. I looked like an amputee superhero. The booth didn’t even apologize.
Let’s be real: the humor of a Morrisons photo booth is that it’s the least glamorous place on Earth to have a glamorous moment. You’re sandwiched between a stack of Economy baked beans and a woman arguing with her toddler about a packet of Wotsits. But that’s the beauty of it—it’s unfiltered life. You’re not in a fancy studio with a stylist; you’re in a corrugated box that smells faintly of bleach and broken dreams, pressing a button that says “Best Smile” with a robotic voice. And you love it.
So next time you’re in Morrisons, do yourself a favor. Ignore the self-checkout meltdowns. Ignore the lost child crying near the bread aisle. Head straight for that glowing booth. Type in your email, ignore the privacy terms, and make a face so silly that your future self will laugh. Because in a world of rising prices and endless stress, a £6 photo strip of you wearing a fictional expression is the cheapest therapy you’ll ever buy. And if you’re really lucky, you might even win that £25 voucher. Just don’t bring the cat.