IÂ’m a debonair WWII pilot whose life expectancy is 30 minutes, IÂ’m a 1970s porn star who named himself after a kitchen aid, IÂ’m Douglas Fairbanks Junior! Sure, IÂ’m trying to look on the bright side. Less than ten days of Movember to go and I canÂ’t wait to shave mymoustache off, but itÂ’s been an interesting experience.
It’s a bit like when you have a crew cut, or win the lottery – women you’d never have imagined would be your type start paying you attention. Most of them are in their 50s and look border-line certifiable, but there’s something to be said for growing one if you’re at a loose end or on a losing streak. Those matinee idols couldn’t have all been wrong.
It’s not like mine is anything to write home about. But at least I’m dark-haired – I’ve seen some blonde efforts that make me look like. Talking of my rivals, all 7,463 of them – fingers crossed I remain in the top 50 fundraisers in the country – I’m surprised how many of them are also growing beards. It’s not Becember! How are you going to draw attention to men’s health problems if people you know just assume you’ve become a hipster. And besides, you’re missing out on all those deranged women out there. Put a poppy on and you’ll be irresistible down the British Legion.
But if the beard look is something of a permanent fixture on your front door, then you should give our new Underground column a whirl. IÂ’d like to tell you that I met its writer, Alexis Robiou, smuggling drugs on the Malawi-Mozambique border, or at least running an ostrich farm in the foothills of Ahwatukee. HeÂ’s the type of guy who would take you aside and tell you about The Beach. Sadly the truth is mundane, but fortunately for us heÂ’s set down roots here and and will be filling us in on all the movers and shakers in the alternative scene in his tri-weekly column.
And while we’re at it, please find the time to read this week’s Select Shopping, which includes information on all the trendy Christmas markets taking place over the next ten days – the one that your friend’s hubby’s sister went to and bought that exquisite trinket you’ve been enviously eyeing ever since.
A bit like the way the lads in my office look at my moustache. Or are they just trying to work out what I had for breakfast?
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