The woman in my local newsagent has some front. She was there serving behind the till this morning with this huge unsightly cold sore on her bottom lip. She made no attempt to hide it. And there I was, queuing up. All I wanted was a pastry. I’d had no breakfast. But she kept me and all the other customers waiting while she tried to chat up this builder. The builder asked for some Golden Virginia tobacco right, the green pack. And then, despite being aware of this queue building up, she asked him what the difference was between the green pack and the red one? And this guy, with no thought for the rest of the queue, responded. “The green one’s easier to rub,” he says. And then the woman, she started playing with her hair in a very coquettish manner, staring at him all intently, and I was thinking, “What the hell are you expecting to happen here? Have you looked in the mirror this morning? Are you even doing anything about that cold sore?’ And this man… was he aware that were anything to happen between them, he would get his first cold sore outbreak one to three weeks after the virus has been contracted? If their relationship turned out to be a short lived thing, then he’s left with having to explain regular cold sore outbreaks to his next girlfriend. I was so enraged, I put the pastry back and stormed out of the shop.