BEHIND THE MASK

Traditionally, it was a Plague Doctor's role to assess and treat victims of the plague. It was a thankless task - and a dangerous one - but at least each Plague Doctor was provided with an outfit which afforded some protection.

The costume would usually consist of a thick overcoat - sometimes waxed - or perhaps a cowl, like something a monk would wear, only made of a thicker fabric. A Plague Doctor would also wear a mask, which inevitably made him look rather fearsome, but the mask was shaped like a beak with good reason: the nose cone was stuffed full of scented materials - rose petals, cloves, camphor, amber and more - which would ward off infection. At least, that was the idea.

On this particular Saturday, this particular Plague Doctor had been summoned and so, without ado, he prepared to go out.

First he donned his cowl, which was long and black and covered his entire body. Next he picked up his mask - the most striking part of his costume - and pulled it down over his face until all that could be seen of him was his eyes, staring through those two round sockets.

With the mask securely in place, the Plague Doctor lifted the cowl's hood so that it covered those parts of his head not already protected by the mask. He glanced at himself in the mirror - it was like looking at some perverse human approximation of a giant crow! He shuddered, then made for the door, picking up a pair of gloves and his leather satchel on the way out.

Twenty minutes later and the Plague Doctor reached the town square. He crossed it without hesitation and then made to enter the shopping precinct, only to find his way barred by a burly security guard.

"Sorry pal, you can't come in here dressed like that," the guard informed him.

"What?" the Plague Doctor responded.

"You'll have to take that hood off if you want to come in here," the guard explained and indicated a sign which was displayed on the wall next to the entrance. The Plague Doctor squinted through the mask's eye sockets until he could read what the sign said:

NO HOODED TOPS TO BE WORN IN THE PRECINCT.

"That is so unfair!" the Plague Doctor declared rather grumpily, before stomping off back across the square.

Finding a wall to sit on, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a mobile phone. He dialed a number, waited, then began to speak when his friend answered.

"Benny?" said the Plague Doctor. "Yeah, alright mate, it's Stewie. I'm not allowed into the precinct. What? No. Some fascist on the door says no hoodies. Meet you in McDonalds instead? Yeah. Cheers mate. See you in ten."

Moral of the story? Don't wear your cowl if you're going shopping.