In which G.M. Norton joins the brethren of bearded brothers.
Since chopping off the over-sized soup strainer and relinquishing my membership to the prestigious Handlebar Club, I've felt a little lost. There's something about being in a gang. Alas, the gangs that congregate where I live aren't really the sort of fellows that I'd like to spend time with, or vice versa.
So a couple of weeks ago, I applied to become a member of the British Beard Club and I'm tickled pink that they granted me admittance.