Egg on my Face (Shirt)

To mark the Easter holiday, I just spilt egg on my shirt. 

It was a particularly pungent one at that. It smelt before I even took it out of the packet.  It started the day in a sandwich and wound up as a fashion accessory; it was one hell of a journey. 

Eating the sandwich on the train made me very self-conscious. As dinners go, it was pretty antisocial. The stench made me hate myself. 

Now, I have a stain on my shirt to act as a small reminder. I'm currently sitting in the bar of a theatre in Vauxhall, waiting to see a friend in a play; I'm hoping my little eggy mark will be a post-show talking point.

I might even let someone lick it.  

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