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I am, as you will have noticed, getting older and uglier every single day. But beauty is in the eye of the bee holder. But he says the same thing except punctuated by yelps as the bee stings him.
I am not a vain man (luckily), but occasionally I see an old photo of myself and realise in hindsight that I used to have a certain something. It's always been like that. So I now look at photos of myself at a time when I thought I was no longer as attractive as I was before, and realise I was actually still attractive. In ten years will I look back at photos of me now and think the same? Probably not. I am really minging right now.
But of course that's what I always say.
And it's an undeniable truth that it's all downhill from here.
BUT there is an exception to all this. When I look at myself in the mirror of our downstairs toilet I think I look really handsome. Here and now. Not ten years ago. I look at myself and think, hey, I've still got it. None of the other mirrors in the house work in the same way and give an accurate representation of my boneability. But in this one, I am verging on being hot. Is the mirror a magic one from Harry Potter which shows you as you were ten years ago and allows you to pass messages through time? Or is it just that there are no windows in this bathroom and the lighting is warm and less harsh than in the brightly lit bathroom upstairs?
No one can prove one hypothesis over another.
But I might just sit in this tiny toilet for the rest of my life and look at myself in the mirror (which is visible from the loo) and marvel about the fact that as long as I am in this room I am still sexy and virile and if anyone happens to accidentally wander in there at the same time and see me, they will definitely want to have sex with me.
I won't have sex with them though as I love my wife and also there probably isn't room in there. I just want them to want to. I don't want to go through the whole palaver.
As age takes its toll on our once unknowingly beautiful bodies, we have to take the breaks where they come.
And where they come is in just one cupboard sized room in the whole world. In the kingdom of my downstairs toilet, the Richard Herring faced man is king.
