That’s me, that is, Dear Reader. (see above) Well not actch me as One is a v girly girly, not one of them ‘Sheeza Geezer’ types, but that poor bloke’s boat* shall suffice as suitable example of One’s current dilemma.
‘Each morning I wake up, before I put on my make-up’ bla bla fecking bla
Dionne Warwick (it’s pronounced Worrick! Get over yerself you daft bat)
Before One puts on One’s make-up One has been swabbing One’s entire fizz* with icy water.
‘Why so?’ One hears you collectively chorus, darlings.
Well, it’s like this ‘ere – One would appear to be allergic to something in the workplace that makes One’s face swell up as plump as a lil ol’ podget. (Blanche DuBoir to Steeeeeeeeela)
Could it be one of the many air fresheners sprayed so liberally about the gaff?
Could it be the latex gloves?
Could it be the general miasma?
Could it be the washing powder etc etc etc…
Or, could it just be actual WORK
* Boat Race – Face – Cockney rhyming slang, Michael
* Fizzog - face