I just went downstairs for yet another photoshoot, to provide comic characters for the magazine. As per usual, I supplied most of the outfits from my wardrobe (what does that say about my dress sense?) I was dressed up as a motty-style football commentator, with sheepskin and mike, glasses perched precariously on nose’s end. As the photographer’s shooting away, he says “you’re really good, you know?”. I’m kinda flattered but not sure what he means. “I mean, you’re a natural in front of the camera.” Soon he’ll be telling me to loosen my top. “Have you ever thought of doing character work? You’d be really good!” I’m starting to get flattered and laugh nervously. “There’s this agency, don’t get me wrong, called Ugly, who could do with someone like you.” My lifelong dreams about a life on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah, fall into shards of glittering angst. He’s joking, isn’t he? “Seriously. I’ve got loads of shots of you now, just drop me an email and I’ll pass your name along.” I get back to my desk and, guess what? He wasn’t lying. So. Should I agree to this and go to work for a modelling agency called ugly? Or should I pep up my pride and pretend I don’t fancy a bit of cash on the side?

I mean, don’t I look pretty here: