To the Unknown Database

To judge from the quality, my recent passport picture is of a potato. According to the new rules, I had to take off my glasses and should not smile. I look like an Interpol handout. Put it this way: Whatever I might be falsely accused of doing, this picture fits.

In the old days when I entered England, I had to present my papers to a man in a booth who wore an official cap. He inquired what I was here to do, and I had to condense the answer. The truth: