I bought the wrong face wash. It's for all skin types, not combination. What will happen now?!
Probably my skin will erupt like one of the nine plagues of Egypt. The one with the boils, not the locusts. My face will be covered in festering blisters, and when I wake up in the morning some will have popped and the pillow will be soaked in puss. People will cross the street to avoid me and the kids at work will develop some kind of clever but horrible nickname. Plague Pus, maybe.
When I see a doctor about it they will refer me to a dermatologist because GPs don't know anything about anything, and when I see the dermatologist (after being on the waiting list for three months) they will be sick on my shoes and tell me to get out. Meanwhile my flatmates will have got tired of seeing me every day and found a way to get rid. I suspect they'll try to smoke me out.
Then I'll have to live in a cardboard box under a bridge, because none of the homeless shelters will admit me. Not that there'll be many hostels left as the Conservatives want to convert them all into centres for training the polo stars of the future. But the ones that are still there, overcrowded and under resourced, won't want me and my elephant man face haunting people's nightmares.
Worst day ever.