Getting A Passport Photograph in a Mall
After sipping my half cup of golden Yogi tea, I realised that the only probable solution would be to go to (what you Americas call) a Mall (or a shopping centre, as it is known in the UK). Yet another problem stood in my path, how would I get there? Upon a moment's reflection of all the wide range of transport available in the UK, out of the choice of a bus or bike, I chose instead to go in a friend's car.
I arrived in the Mall at approximately 4:00pm to look for the little machine that automatically takes your photos and prints them out in 60 seconds. My eyes adapted by widening 5 millimetres to cope with the extra stress of attempting to find a needle in a gaystack (note: the gay is intentional). I found it! It was lodged in a little corner, a dreary place where no one would look unless they absolutely needed to.
I peered into it and ironically someone who I knew was inside having their picture taken too. I waited outside, as any gentlemen would do until the machine was vacant. My friend got out and I was driven to ask "How much does it cost?", the reply was "3 Pounds and 50". That was a rip off, since it was the exact amount I earned in a week. I had no choice however, I needed a passport photograph and fast too.
I entered the space ship like capsule, that was really a highly adapted computer given plastic surgery, a facelift and some liposuction, and I sat in an upright position as I attempted to read the VDU (Visual Display Unit for those of you who lack cognitive depth). It said simply, "Insert £3.50" aided by a women's computerised voice. I did as it asked of me. Upon looking down at the arcade-like control panel I noticed something strange, there were foreign glyphs printed next to each of the button which I could not seemingly understand.
By now it was too late to get my money refunded, I had been conned. I had fallen victim to commercialism and globalisation. The glyphs were Japanese, not Arkanian (a rare Alien breed), and the whole concept of a photo box (as I like to call it) was a sham. In total the box allowed me to take 3 photos and forced me to choose one. However, the curtain was as about as long as a retro miniskirt, which in this case fell too short. What a shame. Furthermore, due to the ambience, coupled with the redness of the flash, I was not only temporarily visually impaired but also the photos showed by eyes as been bright red.
There was a number of possiblities that could be reached as to why this occured. The first is that if we take the premise "The Camera Never Lies", then it would seem to suggest that I am in fact intrinsically evil. However, I would not accept this because it is an absurd suggestion (cough). Another thoery that had been suggested was that the poor quality of the printer coupled with the lack of curtain inquisitive depth caused this effect. Again however, I cannot accept this, since the curtain was as closed as it could be and also the photo box was made by the Japanese (zero defects, except in their genes). I have therefore been forced to reach the conclusion that "The Camera Lies and is Evil". This is the only logical solution to a widely accepted problem.
The question still remains, is it really so hard these days to get a passport sized photograph? The answer is a conditional Yes, if in fact you try to get one on a weekday at lunchtime and live in the UK which lacks both transport and transport routes, which in other countries are taken for granted. Remember this and you shall avoid the pain and agony that I experienced. I simply wish that it happens to no one else (I am therefore justified in suing the company and claiming emotional and physical damages). The advice I can give is "If in doubt, ask" (what has that got to do with anything in this inquisitive hand blog post?). Good day my rodents who live in a cage.