The other day I went to get some photocopies at the Brixton's premier digital solution: XEROX. The solution is ran by a man with an indeterminate accent and wan, dusty complexion. He has greasy slicked back receding hair and glasses (ordinary glasses, not receding glasses) and teeth like a line of subsiding gravestones. He is gorgeous! I asked if he could reverse an image and, because the place is not self service, passed him the A4 drawing. Like a man helming a thick, irritating, talking computer in a 70's TV sci-fi show he pressed about 67 buttons, paused, applied ointment to his exhausted fingertip, then pressed 15 more buttons. The machine whirred, sighed then coughed out the mirror image. “Two pounds,” said the gorgeous man. “Two pounds,” I shrieked, “what for?” “It's reversed,” he said. “Reversed! It's the same ink on the same size of paper!” I heckled, knowing fine well that reversing things does not increase the value. I do not look in the mirror when feeling 676864.76 pounds (1 million dollars - but I feel its important to use British currency so you know exactly how much I value myself on these occasions) and think that's a 1353729.52 pound (2 million dollar) reflection. If anything I come down in price. Usually to around three or four quid. Life eh. Ho hum.
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