I would like to call this version 3.0 but I don’t believe I can. It is more of a downgrade than anything else, a version 1.5 or 1.7 and a little bit more. The face you once knew has changed so dramatically that you may not even recognise it anymore and certainly not in the way I was planning it. This great year of 2020 was going to be the year that my face soared into the stratosphere. I had so many plans lined up and this Bovona Virus has sent all of them crash-landing into Mike’s Carpets. It’s gone proper Lesley Pipes, no no, worse, it’s gone Chesney Wipes. Look at what has happened:
- Original Eyes – they’re still there, still the best. In fact the last opticians appointment I went to they had gotten slightly better. I reckon that all the new eyes have prompted them to up their game because they didn’t want to be left behind. Good on you, original eyes!
- Looking Eyes – the viewing eyes had to be removed and replaced with last years’s looking peepers. I couldn’t go an unknown amount of time without looking at things.
- Peering Eyes – sticking strong at three, a non-mover by all accounts. I peered outside today and saw a lovely sky. Worth every penny.
- Seeing Eyes – another one locked in. I believe that based on previous comments the “chin boobs” are a favourite amongst my admirers and I did my damnedest to ensure they remained.
- Perception Eyes – it was a difficult choice between holding onto these instead of my others. Their tactically favourable position around the back of my head gave them a distinct advantage and in the end the decision to keep them was a wise one.
- Spotting Eyes – these were moved from their previous position, above the ear, into a more fancy, bobbing effort round the front. I expected that any spotting would need to be done at a moment’s notice so there is a little switch next to my right ear which launches the Spotting Eyes when I need to do some spotting. They hide underneath my fringe (now quite long and droopy) until they are required. It was the last project my team did before most of them were disbanded.
During these financial hardships we are all going through, I had to remove and sell my glimpsing, viewing, noticing, mysterious, triple and poker eyes. They’re all gone; sent through the realms of the black market to those who probably do not deserve them. My crack team have also been significantly reduced to just one lady scientist and a robot with a limp. They’re the best at what they do and I know they will keep plugging away although when I will be able to afford new eyes again is anyone’s guess.
Such a sad state of affairs. My face has never felt so open, so vulnerable, so naked. What happens when I need to notice something in the distance? What do I do when I need to glimpse ahead to see how busy the petrol station is or how long the line into the supermarket is? I don’t have the answers and I don’t expect anyone else to have them either. To give into despair about one’s lack of ojos though is to give in to life itself. No, I will not allow myself to dwell on this. I still have six perfectly good pairs of eyes at my disposal and I will carry on, friends.
Look, peer, perceive, spot and see me and I hope you are all inspired.
15 comments on “The Face Update – Round Three”
This is absolutely dreadful, and for once I don’t just mean your face. I don’t think I was alone in looking forward to seeing you jettisoned into the stratosphere, for whatever purpose that would serve. The idea that you are now land-bound with much reduced eyesight is a disaster.
Would you be able to share plans of what Face 3.0 would have looked like, or was the development too far off? In order to become stratospheric, would your hard skull and squish skin be replaced with some kind of gas?
I had it planned out with the boffins that 90% of my face would have been eyes. I was going to graft animal eyes here and there, big unforgiving eyes that you couldn’t, ironically, take your own eyes off.
BIG plans, my friend, BIG plans. Gaseous peepers were also in development.
I heard you had plans for liquid eyes too, so that when you cried or your eyes were watering, the tears rolling down your cheeks would also each be tiny eyes.
HOW DID YOU FIND OUT?
Have you been snooping around my warehouse again? There’s none of my books to burn, Chris, they’re all gone. You’ll have to wait for my new novel to hit the streets later on this year: ‘You Can’t Spell Tussle without ‘Us’: Couples Therapy with Mac Jones’. It’s my pseudonym.
Mac Jones? The same Mac Jones who plays Quarterback for Alabama? The one charged for drunk driving three years ago?
Shame on you. I expected better. Though I’m impressed at your evident talent for American Football, which I wasn’t previously aware of.
I have Americaned so much football that I don’t even remember one of the three thousand matches I played during my career. I was the quad dunk centre forward; a pivotal position when it comes to the kind of aggressive plays I was, apparently, known for.
It all makes sense now. Many’s the time I’ve mentioned to Kev that I found your quad dunking of everyday objects around the house particularly skilful. I see now where you honed those enviable quad dunking skills.
Thank you. I only hope that I can be remembered in the same positive light as other veterans of the sport including James “Horticultural Hotfoot” Hawkins, Edward Ted “Up ‘n’ at ’em” Jones and Bobby “Bottle Rocket” Bolognese.
Bobby “Bottle Rocket” Bolognese was the only card missing from my 1998 Panini American Football Sticker Annual Book Collection. I’m still sad to this day that I never got to see what his meaty, saucy face looked like.
It was two meatballs for eyes, a curb of garlic bread for his nose and, not too surprisingly, spaghetti for a mouth.
How he lasted 18 seasons with nobody jumping him to taste those tasty morsels I’ll never know.
If he was Americanly Footballering for 18 years I expect the delicious bolognese had turned cold and a bit dried out by the end, so certainly towards the end of his career his natural aroma of delicious Italian cuisine will have faded.
Being a well-paid Footballing American he had a lot of bread coming through the post from that warm oven in the hills. He could afford to change and fix his features every season through unnecessary surg’ries.
That sounds awful, until you remember he was effectively made of lasagne, at which point it sounds delicious.
Let us not forget that he was voted the tastiest player for four years running until Nathan “Nandos” Northrup stole his thunder.