2003-11-13 - 5:16 p.m.

I�ve long given up hope of being considered anything approaching beautiful � after all, there�s somewhat of a dearth of people who resemble a chubbier version of Moby sashaying their way down the catwalks of Milan. Thankfully, visible cheekbones aren�t a prerequisite of my profession, and in fact I dread the day, should it ever arrive, that I have to endure a picture byline � at least when it�s just words we can gloss over my physical shortcomings fairly effortlessly. It�s not like I have to write, �The hotel suite a great example of minimalist chic, except for the mirrors which cruelly reflected back my hideously deformed visage, causing me to curse God for creating me this way�� This leaves me free to concentrate on my usual hotel blah, restaurant blah, local attraction blah, funny foreign word that sounds like front bottom blah. Which is great.

There is a group of people, though, who must have to contend with the imperfections of their looks every day of their lives. I don�t mean models or famous actors � I don�t think anyone gets to the top of those professions and suddenly thinks �Hey! No-one told me people were going to be THIS shallow!� No, I�m talking about the people you see on train platforms and on high streets, whose only mission in life is to make you take something out of their hands, or turn your eyes to whatever it is that they�re about to demonstrate. I�m talking about promotional staff. I�m talking about those people who are Not Quite Good Looking Enough To Be A Model.

It�s got to be hard for those people for are NQGLETBAM, handing out breath mints or pizza squares or deodorant samples to anyone who walks by. They know they�re not bad looking. They�re just not good looking enough not to have to wear some hideous luminous coat with �Jizz Gum� or whatever emblazoned all over it. It must be really frustrating. In essence, all they have to be is better looking then the saps they�re handing the merchandise out to, which in the case of the sweating, pasty gutbukets that make up London commuters, isn�t the hardest mantle to achieve, so you can understand their unfaltering smiles at this token amount of aesthetic superiority.

I just wonder whether it�s best to be solidly average, or even offensively ugly, than to be so close, but yet so far, consigned to train platforms, NQGLETBAM, handing out gum in a garish windbreaker.