There is nothing cute about freckles. At all. Ever.

Today I'm giving you the gift of knowledge.

You're welcome.

A few months ago Our Lord Archer was spreading (that word will never look the same again) the word about how he is OH SO MUCH better than us and that we can try REALLY FUCKING HARD if we like but WE WILL NEVER be as good as HIM.

And then he stopped abruptly to see two people in my class playing gay chicken. (love that game)

He THEN went on to say that when he was in the army, he spent his time doing much better things.

What sort of things? We asked.

He grins. It's the kind of grin you see when the person giving it is about to Break Your Soul.

"Freckles."

What's that? We all ask in awe.

"Well..." He says. "Say, for example you have a soft, brown substance on the floor..."

*A collective 'ewwwww...' goes here*

"And then you get a large flat object, put your face down here" *his face is now about 2 feet away from the floor* "and slam the large object down... and then count the freckles on your face."

We're all hanging onto his words so hard that it takes a moment for the idea to sink in.

And then...

Silence.

We all digest this.

One brave, broken soul pipes up "but then... you get... poo... on your... face."

"Yup." Our Lord Archer says without a blink.

There's a moment where we all swallow our revulsion. But he carries on: "It's best to keep your mouth closed. It's not really worth fifty points to get it in your mouth."

"..."

I think we've all learned something today.