I know you're supposed to love yourself, but I really hate the way I look. When I look in the mirror I'm so disgusted by the chocolate blancmange abomination staring back at me, I actually apologise to my wife for my physical appearance. I've got no backside, an overhanging belly and I'm so disproportionate.
Years later, when I was working as a trolley wally in a supermarket, I tackled the boredom by talking to the customers in as many different accents as I could manage. I started with one that I didn't think would alert any suspicion - generic Asian - then moved on to Irish, Welsh, Australian and American.
We are entering an age where people can claim to know more about what really happened than the people who were there. Where people will dismiss eyewitness accounts, on the basis of their gut feelings; where they will refute scientific discoveries because the scientist just doesn't look trustworthy.