00If there is one thing that really irritates me (apart from people eating nachos in the cinema -- I could write a book on that one -- it's when complete strangers feel the need to say "Smile!" if they see me looking like a grumpy old sourpuss.

If you are lucky enough to be blessed with a face that folds into an expression of cheery good humour when relaxed then you have probably never suffered this peculiar brand of rudeness.

However, it happens to me on a regular basis, so I know what I'm ranting about. I suspect this is because when my face goes into "neutral" (on a bus say, or walking down the street) I tend to look like I'm chewing on a handful of

wasps.

But it's not my fault is it? Even when I'm packed to the brim with bonhomie I still look like I could turn my hand to violence should the occasion arise.

It's just the way I'm made.

So why do people I've never met find themselves compelled to order me to slap a grin on my chops, as if I'm polluting their environment with my cranky countenance?

"Smile!" comes from the same school of conversation as "Cheer up, it might never happen!" to which the only reasonable response is "Well, you're talking to me, so I'm afraid it already has."

The individual who sparked my anger most recently was a chunky, jolly and, dare I say, intoxicated fellow who bounded up to me last week at a Manchester nightclub and bellowed the demand apropos of nothing in particular.

There I was, innocently dancing to the Rolling Stones, feeling at one with the universe, when this chunky chap lurched up to remind me that I looked like someone had just shot my dog.

I used to immediately grin like a loon when someone said 'Smile', due to some deep-seated politeness which demands I should obey requests from perfect strangers.

But these days I feel it's my duty to put these people in their place, thus saving other unintentionally frowny types from a similar fate.

So I replied: "Actually I've just found out I have two months to live."

Well, okay, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. What I actually said was: "I'm not sure if you realise that when you ask me to smile, or even to cheer up, I am, in fact, perfectly content up until that point and, ironically, it is your comment that then vexes me. In fact, if you promise not to speak to me again I shall spend the remainder of the night, nay my life, in delirious jubilation." Or words to that effect.

To which plumpy replied: "Well, you look bloody miserable," and then hooked his fingers to the corners of his mouth to reiterate his previous request in gesture form. Very maddening. I'll bet he eats nachos in the cinema too.

Still, if this column can stop one person from committing this offence in the future then my work here is done. Thanks for letting me rant, I feel much happier now.

But if you see me on the street, I still won't be smiling.