Today my flatmate told me about a study that studied the stuff people do and say beneath the condensed comfort of face masks. The most frequent liberty was the fact that they could swear without anyone realising, which seems like a somewhat British silver-lining. Although, being able to call that one bloke with poor trolley etiquette a nob without him punchingyou in the nose seems like a perfectly sufficient pro for being inwardly un-family-friendly in the middle of Asda on a Tuesday afternoon. Despite this blessing, I’d say that my favourite part is being able to guess the faces that people are making under there – it does make you wonder – because there’s every chance that the old fart dressed like your Year 9 geography teacher is grinning from ear to ear whilst looking at the selection of Brussel sprouts, or maybe even sticking his tongue out just for the thrill of it. I’ve learned to recognise this happiness through crow’s feet and unavoidably steamy glassesand bushing bulbous cheeks but I reckon it would be nice to see an unmuffled chuckle, crooked teeth biting the air, and a tongue once hinged, unhinged, and bouncing freely again.