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To take my mind off the threat of thermonuclear war between a man who looks like a potato garnished with the moustache of a pederast, and a man not dissimilar to a ginger cat arse, I went for a walk.

How would it be, I wondered on my way, to live in a different world, a happier place, where Obama was still President and North Korea enjoyed firing delightful things into the air? Like balloons, or those super bouncy balls, or those little rubber people that stuck when you threw them at windows; or cake? If Kim Jong-un had any imagination at all, he could launch a charm offensive with such missiles that would wow the region into a new era of mutual trust as together they enjoyed the good 80s-style recreational activities without any of the bad stuff – like getting AIDS. It would be wonderful; it would be real.

But no. We live in a cruel world, so much less than it could or should be, where national leaders insist on displays of rocketry so big that I have to assume they are substitutes. Eh, North Korea! Do you want some Viagra for that rocket?

‘Rocket failure is very common in a nation your age.’

‘But doctor, I just want to bone countries I want to bone.’

‘I understand, just give it a little time…’.

Yes, it was a long walk. On the way I passed my childhood optician, so I went in and said ‘hello.’ The place had changed. It was much smaller than it used to be, and much harder to see. So I thought I’d better get new glasses – especially if the news continues to be so bad, I’d need to view it all through clear lenses. My current lenses look like the ice rink at the end of the Olympics. Seriously. Sometimes I can see nothing because there are so many people in leotards on them.

Anyhoo. The owner insisted on giving me a free eye test, and I read all the letters down to the bottom line – getting an A+ grade. If only my school teachers could have been there. I even found some frames I liked, too. Here they are:

 

When I asked the optician if he’d ever been asked for a pair of frames just like them, he surprised me by saying ‘once.’ Apparently someone else thought they were pretty sexy. I like to think it was Kim Jong-un, because he realised that wearing them would be the only way he could distract from his hairstyle, his politics or indeed another bad missile launch. Or perhaps it was Donald, because Donald.

I walked home inspired and delighted by my outing. I fired up my laptop and checked the news. North Korea vs Trump on Twitter had been replaced in the headlines by a large-scale recall of hummus from supermarket shelves.

Now that is serious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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