A black eye - don't ask how he got it
I remember the funny, suspicious looks I used to get while wheeling my son around the supermarket on a shopping trolley when he had a black eye that he'd got from falling against something. It probably screamed child-abuse to everyone.
As an adult, especially, if you're a woman, a black eye attracts a lot of speculation but I know that South African work colleagues, even if they don't know you that well, would ask how you'd got a black eye.
The English, however, are different.
Despite everyone noticing it and being unable to not look at it, not one of them asked why I had a black eye on Monday. Apart from one, but she's Australian, an entirely different species from the English.
Well, it wasn't from a fight and it wasn't from falling down from too much red wine.
I had another bit of skin carved out on Thursday, this time just under my right eye. Ironically, however, I was attacked with a hammer on Tuesday but that didn't give me a black eye, nor, for that matter, any bruises visible outside of my clothes.