The other evening, waiting for my train at Central Railway Station, I happened to glance over my shoulder and saw this woman looking over the bowed, bald head of her partner .

Ouch, I thought, he must’ve scratched his bonce or something. Nice of her to check on it… Oh wait, what’s she doing?

Moving one step sideways for a better look, I realised with sudden horror that she was, in fact, trying to pop a pimple on his pastule ridden cranium.

Ergh.