Mug Shot

To town for various shoppings and meetings and yet more photos for the avalanche of paperwork necessary to complete my guise as a Thracian shepherd and evade the posse.

I pass a shop offering instant passport photos and decide to backtrack via there as the last chore before heading home.

I also notice a large screen over the counter and in full view of everyone, including the street, a snap of singularly unattractive and podgy lady, and marvel at its choice as an example of the shop's skill in portraiture.

Two hours later I'm back and get myself snapped and notice that now it's MY ugly mug on the screen.

As I pay, I ask how long my picture stays up there.

"Until next person wants picture."

"But that could behours."

"Can be days. Busy season over. Everyone go home." Ulp.

Bloody hell. I could be some varlet on the run from creditors, learn that the Pinkertons are in town on my trail, and needing a swift forgery to get me over to Albania. I pop into the shop for a discreet photo and end up on display for the whole of Corfu.

Mr Pinkerton et colleague are walking along, agreeing that their info' must have been wrong and that I'm nowhere around and they might as well head home. Walk past the photo shop and see my mug and return to the chase with renewed vigour.