~~
Having to renew my Broxit passport online has raised some serious issues. Somebody had replaced the former, extra mature, but still handsome, young, "professor type." Whose likeness was subtly depicted on my last passport.
I have somehow been substituted with an antique clone. One which had obviously been subjected to much abuse and carrying a considerable excess of "patina!"
Worse than that: The clone looked like the worst kind of criminal hard case. The deranged psycho glared back at me from the screen. Slit eyed, head tilted menacingly sideways. Unblinking in the unaccustomed, harsh, winter sunlight. Suggesting that "the perp" was caught by the prison, security cameras. Five minutes after release. On license, from a multiple life sentence in a maximum security wing. As the only survivor of a sudden outbreak of cannibalism after the guards flatly refused to enter!
All was made much, much worse by the absence of a professional haircut/trim for well over two years and counting. I am, alas, a martyr to Covid Hair. [Google spelling checker doesn't recognize Covid? Seriously?] Then it would be a complete waste of time searching for "a home made Mullet."
I spent hours in sickly sunshine on Wednesday. Desperately trying to capture a flattering likeness of this [new] old [substitute] fart. It hardly seems worth mentioning that it was all without the slightest degree of success.
I had my camera on a tripod and used a 4 second, shutter delay. While I dashed back and forth [repeatedly] to my spot marked with a fallen twig. Such that there is now a newly worn strip of what we laughingly refer to as "that bit of lawn." You will not be surprised to learn that I had to recharge the camera batteries twice. Meanwhile, the length of lining paper. Which I had stapled to the shed wall as a suitably plain backdrop. Became ever more limp.
Fortunately a sympathetic, professional photographer took pity on my pidgin Danish cry for help. In mere moments, the following morning, they had saved the day. By some unfathomable miracle and not a little, well-honed skill, the [hit man] clone was duly transformed. Into a passing resemblance to a [very] long retired, but [probably] quite harmless, Twirly. No plastic surgery required.
Though, sadly, they could not lower the highlights on the septuagenarian's, bulging bonce. And no, I do not want any sarky comments about Dan Dare's arch enemy, The Mekon! I tend more towards magenta rather than green.
Modesty prevents me from sharing any of my hideous, DIY, self-portrait snaps. Nor even the international, emergency rescue, "makeover." My main difficulty was that post processing is not allowed on digital passport photos. Otherwise I could have coloured in the stubbly, grey bits. With a great big dollop of the "Blonde Rinse" button. Followed by an infill wash of "Cheap Fake Tan" using free, image handling software. I had rather fancied myself as a faded Van Gogh. Recuperating after a fortnight's debauchery on The Med amidst sunflowers. Alas, it was not to be "at my own hand."
Nobody with an ounce of empathy would have noticed my subtle computer aided subterfuge. Except for that tyrannical, AI robot at UK Passport HQ. Which judged my own self portraits as "COLOURFUL BUT DOWNRIGHT POOR! While the pro's effortless artwork was rated as "extremely good." So much for 60 years of practicing amateur photography! Emphasis on "practicing." Sixty years sounds like a very long time. Was I even there?
~~
No comments:
Post a Comment