Me and My Mo

And so Movember draws to it's long awaited, and yet precipitous close. For four straight weeks I've been growing the most absurd facial hair I have ever considered diplaying, and done so against all manner of insult and accusation. This tache has endured allegations of 'thiness', 'fatness', victorianism, 'Fred Dibnerism' and even, in the end, of making me look like an over fed hamster. It has iched and bothered, strained soup, and tickled, and on occasion, I must admit, has picked up a vaguely cheesy aroma, if not very vigorously and thoroughly washed. I now wash it vigorously and thoroughly. Lots.

And yet, here we are, three days and a couple of public speaking engagements away from being once more clean shaven, and I am beginning to wonder if I won't miss it. The 'Flashman' comparisons are well recieved, and I'll miss the subtle double takes of the general public. 'Yes madam' I inwardly respond, 'this is indeed the finest tache you've seen today!'.

There's still opportunity to go to the Movember page and show your appreciation, or sympathy, by making a contribution to the very decent cause of prostate cancer awareness and research.