Andy Schleck et Jil (girlfriend)

Yeah, all right, I know, I know: I am always complaining about the search terms people use to find this blog - that's "new" people,  not the Faithful Schlecklanders -  and here I am, pandering to them in the worst way.

So, for the benefit of those of you who don't follow Twitter, here is what TinkerJil kindly put up recently:

There you go - ain't that the sweetest thing?

And who, amongst us, doesn't have something very, very similar, hidden away somewhere? Well, those of us who are over the age of 35 at any rate.

Ah yes, those heady days when cameras were expensive, and developing the photos cost money, took a fortnight, and was done in your local chemist's shop, with the attendant risk that everyone in the shop would see your  photos before you did, and that if there were any slightly risque or really, really bad shots amongst them, you would know that they had been handed round the entire staff at lunchbreak, all of whom would laugh at you when you came in to collect them.

The chemist's door opens with a loud Ding!  A young girl - late teens - walks calmly up to the counter with a slip of yellow paper in her hand.

"Can I help you?" asks the assistant.
"I've come to collect my photos," she says "they should be ready today, name of Smith"

(NB, names have been changed to protect the innocent - or in this case, guilty)

The assistant smiles at Miss Smith, his smile curving wider into a knowing grin. He walks slowly to the box of photo packets behind the counter, nudging his colleague as he does so. The colleague - an older man - looks  up in surprise. "Is that her?" he mouthes. The first man nods, smirking, and reaches slowly for the box of packets.

As he leafs through them in a leisuirely way, pretending to check the numbers against the yellow slip, the second assistant "psst!"s to the other members of staff, then points at Miss Smith, waiting heedlessly at the counter.

She suddenly realises that everyone in the shop is looking at her, and that they are all grinning, in a very knowing and strangely unpleasant way. Slightly worried, she takes her photos, pays, accepts the change, thanks the smirking assistant and walks quickly outside. There, she moves out of the doorway and opens the pack of photos.

"OH. MY. GOD!!!!" she says. Yes, this is back when Friends was on TV. Her face turns an unsightly tomato-red colour, as she sees the incriminating pictures of - well, best if we don't continue, really. You get the idea.

Where was I? Oh yes, we used to love the photo booth pictures because we could be a bit naughty in them, without having to spend the rest of the year taking a long bus journey to a chemist shop where we were unknown. Now that everyone has cameras on their phones, you'd think that they would have disappeared, wouldn't you?

So come on, send me a jpeg of your photo booth photos, I'll put up the ones that make me laugh. Oh, come on, you know you have them hidden away somewhere.

I'd also be interested to know exactly what is on the sheet of photos from the previous go: I wonder what they were doing? Were they mooning the camera, do we think? (Note for non-UK readers: "mooning" is exposing the bare buttocks in a somewhat insulting manner, often out of car or coach windows when there is no chance of being assaulted. And no, of course I have no personal experience of such a thing. No, no, no.)

Or was it the sheet where first he had his eyes half closed, then she had hair all over her face, then one of them slipped off the stool and looks horrified, then both of them moved and it came out all blurred. Yes, let's go for that option, shall we?