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Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Movember - Christmas Come Early


Am I the only one who's a little suspicious about the true motivations of the moustachiooed Movemberons?

For those who don't know, Movember is an annual event wherein normally clean shaven, or unimaginatively bearded men grow a moustache for the duration of the month of November to raise money for male related health causes, chiefly testicular and prostrate cancer funds.

Which, in itself is admirable, and I'm certainly not going to slate. However...

Don't expect me to buy the "oh no, I've going to look like a nobhead for a month, but not to worry, it's for a good cause" - you all fucking love it.

For a start we can right off 85-92% of entrants, as they are going to grow handlebar moustaches, which are a bit of a cop out, and not really the point of the exercise, which is surely to look a complete tool.

If you are going to do it, do it properly, do not grow anything that could be construed as something someone would legitimately want on their face. Grow a moustache that you would only ever see on the face of a felcher or train spotter.

But even this belies the real, underlying truth.

Moustaches are cool. That's right, moustaches are cool. They are the ultimate symbol of manhood. Every man secretly knows this. His heart yearns to grow one every day of his fucking life. He dreams of sporting a Selleck and going into the bookies, putting down a disastrous bet and fighting an Irishman. Why can't I? Who the fuck decided that they are shit? Fuck you all, I want one! But the pressure is too much. I can't goddam it, I'm not powerful enough.

Because nothing shows your lack of strength like a moustache. You can cover a troubling torso with a baggy shirt, but a moustache reveals the true properties of a man.

Who is that guy over there with the moustache? I don't know, but I fear him, with his piercing eyes, and jawline that could plough fields and plunder the seven seas. What about that weasel over there, with the fungalised caterpiller on his top lip? He makes a mockery of the tache - look how it accentuates his massively over large top lip, lack of male hormones such as testosterone and weak, milky chin. He is a human hoverfly, wearing the colours of the wasp, when all know he is nothing but a gnat.

But we all do it, fantasise about being B.L. Stryker, jumping around the house at dawn, whilst the missus is still asleep, knowing it will have to come off before you take in her cup of tea.

But then suddenly someone, a person who has yearned more than any other to grow the noble lip cover, invented the idea of Movember and men the world over rejoiced that, even if it is only for one month of the year, they can grow their moustache and feel like a man. That's all they ever wanted, validation.

So don't feel there is any self-sacrifice involved in Movember - there isn't. Asking a man to sport a moustache for a month is as much a hardship as asking a woman to wear a padded bra.

He's never felt more alive.

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