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COSMETICS "Would you mind getting me a potato peeler, one of the French sort?" I said to the woman about to enter Boots. She looked me up and down with suspicion, probably wondering why I didn't go for it myself. "I suffer from Pharmophobia," I said by way of explanation, "a fear of chemists shops."      Looking far from convinced she nevertheless took the five pound note I proffered.      "I may be some time," she warned, rather like a female version of Captain Oates but without the snowshoes.      "Take all the time you want," I said, only too glad she'd agreed to do me the favour.      Earlier The Trouble had said: "If you go anywhere near the precinct call in at Boots and pick me up a potato peeler, would you? One of the French ones we have, I must have lost mine, can't find it anywhere."      "No problem," I'd replied.      But there was a problem. It was just that it had been so long since I'd been anywhere near Boots I'd forgotten all about it. The problem was, and is, that I can't enter a Boots shop without bursting out laughing at the bizarre appearance of the assistants behind the cosmetics counter. And as the cosmetics counter is the first thing you encounter on entering a branch of Boots you can't really miss it, and with it the grotesques lined up behind it. I don't know what time these creatures have to get up in the morning in order to put on their make-up in the proportions they do but I would have thought that it took them so long to apply, unless they had the advantage of a plasterer's float, it would hardly be worth going to bed in the first place.      My friend Atkins Down The Road has the theory that as an incentive to maximise sales they are made to apply each morning any make-up not sold on the previous day, and he could very well be right.      You might think that on entering Boots I have only to keep my eyes to the front and ignore the cosmetics counter, but that's easier said than done. It seems to draw you. It's rather like being on a train seated opposite a pretty woman whose skirt has ridden up to reveal thigh and underwear - you try not to look but you just can't help yourself.      I was with The Trouble the first time I realised that I couldn't keep my face straight on being confronted by one of these horrors. The assistant in question opened her mouth, a crimson gash that I can only liken to a pig with its throat cut. "Good morning madam, what can I get you?" she smiled. She had to smile, she was wearing so much foundation cream and face powder that her face was set in a smile, so she had no choice in the matter. She would still have smiled if she'd said: "Good morning madam, a mad axe man is just about to bring his axe down on your head." I didn't laugh at first, managing to contain myself to a wide grin. It was when The Trouble noticed me grinning and said: "Take no notice of him he's got a feeble mind." that I started to laugh, aware that people with feeble minds can get away with anything.      Ever since then I've kept out of Boots, confining myself to a quick look through their glass doors whenever I feel like laughing at their cosmetics counter assistants. Which isn't very often as I have better things to do. In fact for the last few years I've only looked in to confirm that they still in fact do make me laugh, and in the hope that they don't, as I'd quite like to go in Boots sometimes.      The woman came out potato peeler-less and handed me back my five pound note. "They're sold out," she said, then, helpfully, "But they sell them at Debenhams, I bought one there a week or two ago."      I thanked her and made my way to Debenhams. And I was actually in Debenhams before I realised that they, like Boots, had their cosmetics counter hard by the entrance. I saw the cosmetics assistants, clones of those at Boots. I burst out laughing, naturally.      "Did you get that potato peeler from Boots?" said The Trouble, the moment I got in.      "They were sold out," I replied.      "Good," she said, "the other one turned up. Sorry to have wasted your time"      "That's all right," I said, "it was a laugh actually.