3 PM Thursday 24 May 2012 Nunhead Heights.
The other night I had a dinner date with a very pretty, very young woman from Cornwall. Okay, it wasn’t a date. She was very much with my friend James and the three of us were just hanging out after my show “Lewis Schaffer is Free until Famous” at the Source Below in London. Still, a man can dream.
My lovely “date” sat in the restaurant poking and rubbing and prodding her chin so much I had a hard time focusing on her sparkling blue eyes and luscious exposed upper-breast area. English breasts are delightfully full because of England’s high humidity, lack of wrinkle-inducing sun and generally sedentary lifestyle.
English women can’t let a minute go without fiddling, feeling, playing with, and scratching their faces. They live with their hands by their mouths and chins. They rest their hands on the lower neck, fiddling, alluringly.
Or cup their chins on their hands, holding up their heads as if they have motor neuron disease – like the old American comedian Jack Benny.
A English “spot” is not an American “zit”. A zit in America is an untouched pimple that is either covered with make-up or “popped” – squeezed – and then cleaned and re-covered with make-up. Or, believe it or not, left alone.
English women cannot leave a zit alone. I have never seen a zit in England. You know, the kind with the white puss-y head. English women are zit-less.
She will mash it down until the puss comes out, then rub it until it dries and then will pick off the bits of live skin, just to make sure there aren’t rivulets of ooze flowing down her face. Then the zit becomes of spot of blood. That is probably why the English call it a “spot”. A zit sounds like it can still explode.
And if you think reading that is, how shall we say, disgusting, just think how it is to witness that while you are eating your Singapore-style vermicelli?
American women slather on the make-up in ways that only an Essex girl could only dream. This layer of paint probably makes them even more reticent about touching their faces. But American women are unnatural. English women are naked with all their blemishes exposed. You’ll know what you’re getting with an English girl. No mystery in the morning when the make-up is off. [Or should I say, no mystery in the loo in the brightness of the florescent lights.]
Face touching is especially prevalent among the English middle classes. The upper classes, i.e., the royals, etc. are constantly being watched and can’t afford to be seen with blood on their hands. That is why Prince Charles holds his hands behind his back and the Queen wears gloves. And face touching could be endemic to the southern part of the Island. I haven’t made a study of this yet, though. [Everything is always different up North in Glasgow or Sterling. I wouldn't be surprised if they actually thought they were a different country.]
A lifetime of face touching results in the red blotches growing into leathery, holey, scarred skin and then turning into subcutaneous cysts – those boils and bumps you associate with Russian peasant women in a wheat field working on the next five-year-plan.
Ladies, blame it on diet, pollution, stress, drinking, pollution or lack of sun but one thing you can easily do is leave your face alone. You will see your skin clear up.
Ladies, be even more beautiful and stop touching your faces. Stop the picking. You will thank me for this.
[I was not the right person to write this. It should have been written by a woman or a really camp gay guy - not some old, bloated, failed divorced comic living a lonely life in southeast London. But if not me, then who?]
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