That’s not me

I’m going to Vietnam in a few days’ time, so I had to get a visa, so I had to get some photos done. Thailand doesn’t have photo booths; instead, you go into a camera or print shop where someone takes your photo to the precise specification of the task to which it will be put, because the pics for passports and ID cards and work permits and visas to various countries all need to be different sizes and shapes.

Except that when I went to pick up the prints, they’d clearly gone PhotoShop crazy on my picture, zapping the pimples and eye bags, doing a digital botox job on my forehead and I think they even toned down the grey in my beard. What’s left is a cleaned-up, hyperreal simulacrum of the hideous mess I see in the mirror every morning, which would be understandable if I were starring in an advertising campaign for some overpriced moisturiser, but this is meant to be for an official document that lets me get into a country. The photograph is the proof that I’m the person to whom the details on the document apply. If the photograph doesn’t look like me, doesn’t that make the whole thing a bit pointless? It may as well be a picture of George Clooney or Winnie Mandela or a patch of moss.

One could delve into the realms of social anthropology and deduce that the buffing and sheening done to my sort-of-likeness is part of the Asian desire for harmony in all aspects of life. Thai people tend to tell you what you want to hear, but to them this isn’t a lie; they genuinely believe that keeping you happy is more important than keeping you in touch with reality. (If you want to see how disturbed they get when reality intrudes, read the comments on this article.) Maybe I was meant to think I really do look like that. In fact, the picture won’t even make me look better, because it will only ever be used in conjunction with my real face, and its weird, glossy smoothness will just throw my own saggy, pockmarked decrepitude into brutal relief.

The funny thing is, I bet the Vietnamese immigration guys won’t give a damn that the picture looks nothing like me; but if it turns out to be the wrong size, I’ve got no chance.

Dragons circling over Cardiff

No, it’s not a Torchwood storyline. The Malaysian owners of Cardiff City FC want to change the club’s strip from blue to red, and replace the bluebird on the crest with a dragon. The argument is that the new image will be more helpful to marketing efforts in Asia, the importance of which to European football has escalated in recent years. They may have a point. Glancing at the car stickers on the streets of Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok would certainly suggest that Manchester United and Liverpool have a numerical advantage over those, such as Birmingham or Everton, which are owned or sponsored by Asian concerns, but persist in playing in blue. Even the resurgent Manchester City, once the plaything of Thailand’s former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, is an also-ran if the criterion for support is the trade in counterfeit shirts at the stalls on Silom Road. Red, especially for people from China and the Chinese diaspora, represents success, prosperity, victory and all that good stuff. Dragons are just the icing on the cake.

But how far should we follow this logic? If every football club wants to increase its fanbase in the Asian market, should they all don red shirts if they don’t wear them already? Indeed, if Manchester United is the brand leader, why doesn’t every club just call itself Manchester United and be done with it? It would make matches a bit confusing, but the marketing guys would be happy. And that’s what matters, isn’t it?