At a beauty clinic above a high street in Wakefield a man in blue scrubs counts 25 points on my face that he plans to inject with an unlicensed anti-wrinkle drug.
The adjoining waiting room features an enormous vase filled with syringes instead of flowers. The walls are decorated with framed pictures of a swimwear model and a former Mrs Universe.
Vilnis Karklins, who says that he trained as a doctor in Latvia but is not registered to practise with the General Medical Council in Britain, warns me that I will need “loads” of jabs for my “very deep” and “long” wrinkles. I am 30 years old, but he suggests that they make me look five years older.
“Maybe stress or something else? Partner? Maybe