At dawn, I plummeted plumply into that mama pore on the tip of my nose. Just as I thought I had shrunk it, exterminated it, I was ****** up and made disappear. Mama pore has millions of babies strewn across my face. Busybabies they are, cooking up grime and sweat, and grubby oil, day and night - plastering it all over my face.

No army of cleanser, toner, scrubs, facials, masks can defeat my beastly pores, not even that overpriced, scientifically-proven-to-work, tried and tested elixir I spent a month's wages on - it seems. Back to bed, I go. I'm a threat to society, looking like that. Flicking through beauty pages, I see no mama pores. Pity you can't photoshop real-life skin. I would.

Dr Google is out of answers too, so what now? I know! Ice cream, a whole packet of cigarets and twenty cups of coffee for breakfast. The doorbell rings. I'm driving you to work today, have you forgotten? Betty shouts across the intercom. Buzz me in! Reluctantly, I do, open the door to an army of mama pores nestled on the wings of Betty's nose. On the way to work, we talk pores and how to get rid of them.